The night Lauren texted me about a “special family dinner,” I nearly choked on my instant noodles. It had been forever since we’d all gathered together, and even longer since it had felt like my parents actually wanted me there.
I love my family, but being the middle child often feels like being the filling in a sandwich everyone else is fighting over.
I stared at my phone, finger hovering over the keys. Part of me wanted to invent a weak excuse, but then I thought of Savannah and Jaden—my perfect older sister and my golden-boy little brother.
They’d be there, basking in Lauren and Benjamin’s praise as always. And I’d remain invisible if I didn’t show up.
“I’m in,” I typed, sending it before I could overthink and back out.
Lauren replied immediately. “Wonderful! La Belle Étoile, 7 p.m. next Friday. Don’t be late!”
La Belle Étoile. Fancy. I let out a low whistle, glancing at my bank account. This wouldn’t be cheap, but maybe it was a sign—maybe they really wanted to spend time with me, Cadence the Overlooked.
That Friday, I arrived ten minutes early, jittery and nervous. Just as I was about to step inside, Lauren and Benjamin pulled up. Lauren’s smile was wide and warm, while Benjamin wore his usual worried expression.
Inside, we settled at a cozy table. Soon, Savannah and her husband joined us. Savannah looked radiant as ever, making me feel plain in comparison. And, of course, Jaden arrived late, muttering complaints about traffic.
Once we were all seated, Lauren didn’t waste time reminding me of my place.
“So, Cadence,” she said over her menu, glancing at me, “how’s work? Still at that small marketing agency?”
I nodded, trying not to flinch at the jab. “Yeah, it’s going well. We just landed a major client—I’m leading the project.”
“That’s nice,” Lauren said, already shifting her attention to Savannah, who was enthusiastically recounting her son’s latest basketball triumph.
It stung, but the mood lifted as the meal progressed. The food was exquisite, and soon we were laughing and chatting like when I was a child.
I was finally savoring the meal and the rare feeling of belonging—until the check arrived.
Benjamin reached for it, scanning the total, then paused, looking at me.
“Cadence,” he said stiffly, “you’ll need to cover your share tonight.”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard. “What?”
“You’re an adult now,” he continued, as if talking to a child. “It’s time you paid your own way.”
“But…” I started, voice trembling, “I thought this was a family dinner. You’re covering everyone else.”
Benjamin’s frown deepened. “Your siblings have families to support. You’re single, so it’s only fair.”
Fair. The word echoed in my head, taunting me. I swallowed hard, handing over my credit card without a word, praying it wouldn’t be declined.
The rest of the night blurred. Driving home, the sting turned sharper, angrier. By morning, my head throbbed, and my heart carried a bitterness I couldn’t shake. I spent the day pacing, stewing, imagining the perfect retaliation.
I wasn’t going to let it slide—not this time.
A plan formed: bold, wild even, but the more I thought about it, the more it felt right. I would show them how it felt.
I invited Lauren and Benjamin over for dinner, spending days planning a menu worthy of a five-star restaurant. I cleaned my apartment until it gleamed, bought elegant candles, and even splurged on a proper tablecloth.
When the night arrived, I felt oddly calm. I had a plan—and I would see it through.
At 7 p.m. sharp, the doorbell rang. I inhaled deeply and opened the door with a bright smile.
“Lauren, Benjamin! Come in!”
Benjamin handed me a bottle of wine. “Your place looks wonderful, Cadence.”
“Thanks,” I said, guiding them to the living room. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can I get you something to drink?”
As I poured, Lauren’s eyes roamed my bookshelf. “So, how’ve you been, dear? We haven’t heard much from you since… well, our last dinner.”
I laughed lightly, forcing casualness. “Work’s been super busy.”
Small talk faltered under awkward pauses until the oven timer saved us.
“Dinner’s ready!” I announced, maybe a little too eagerly.
I had gone all out: herb-roasted salmon, grilled vegetables, and a perfectly tossed quinoa salad. Lauren and Benjamin made appreciative noises.
“This is amazing, Cadence,” Lauren said, genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know you could cook like this.”
I shrugged, suppressing the spark of resentment. “A few years of experience teach you things.”
The meal went smoothly, almost enjoyably, until Benjamin launched into one of his lectures about financial responsibility. That was my cue.
As I cleared the plates and brought out a delicate tiramisu, I steeled myself.
“So,” I said lightly, setting down the dessert plates, “I hope you enjoyed the meal.”
They nodded. “It was fantastic, dear,” Lauren said.
I smiled, but not fully. “Great. That’ll be $47.50 each, please.”
The silence was deafening. Lauren’s fork clinked. Benjamin’s face cycled through confusion, disbelief, and then anger.
“Sorry… what?” he stammered.
I mirrored his earlier tone. “Well, you’re both adults. Time to pay your own way.”
Lauren gasped. “But… this is your home. You invited us.”
“Yes,” I said, voice sharper, “just like you invited me to La Belle Étoile and made me pay while covering everyone else.”
Understanding—and guilt—dawned.
“Cadence,” Benjamin began, voice rough, “we didn’t mean…”
“Didn’t mean what?” I cut in, years of bottled-up frustration spilling out.
“Didn’t mean to make you feel less than Savannah or Jaden? Didn’t mean to ignore you? Or… did you just not care?”
Lauren reached for my hand; I pulled back. “Sweetie, we had no idea.”
I laughed bitterly. “Of course you didn’t. Do you know what it feels like to always be the odd one out in your own family?”
Benjamin shifted.
“We love you as much as your siblings, Cadence.”
“Do you?” I challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m just as accomplished, just as driven—but I’m always expected to ‘act like an adult’ while they get a free pass.”
The room fell silent, heavy with unspoken words.
Finally, Benjamin cleared his throat. “We owe you a big apology, Cadence.”
Lauren nodded, tears glistening. “We never meant to make you feel undervalued. You’re our daughter—we love you so much. We’ve just… failed to show it.”
I blinked back tears. “I don’t want apologies. I want you to notice me. To do better.”
Benjamin stood, stiffly at first, then hugged me. Awkward, but real.
“We see you, Cadence,” he said. “We’ve been blind, foolish, and taken you for granted. That stops now.”
Lauren joined. For a minute, we stood—a tangle of arms, tears, and honesty long overdue.
When we pulled apart, Lauren wiped her eyes, laughing shakily. “So… about that bill?”
I laughed too. “This one’s on me. But next time? We split it evenly. All of us.”
Benjamin nodded. “Deal.”
Nothing was magically fixed, but a crack had formed in the wall around my heart, letting in a sliver of hope.