Eat this mess yourself: how my sister embarrassed me in front of everyone over a cake that wasnt mine
Elodie had meticulously styled her hair, slipped into her prettiest dress and, after a light spritz of perfume, set off for her older sister Camilles birthday. She clutched a neatly wrapped box that held a cake, hoping it would be a pleasant surprise and smooth over their strained relationship. When she reached the fifthfloor apartment she knocked twice. The door opened, and Camilleradiant in a fresh robe and flawless curlsgreeted her with an enthusiastic clap:
Is this for me? Its my birthday, you didnt forget, did you?
Of course its for you, Elodie replied calmly, handing over the box.
Camille took the cake, lifted the lid and glanced inside. Her admiration quickly turned into suspicion.
Did you bake this?
Yes, Elodie answered with a faint hesitation.
Are you sure? Camille furrowed her brows, turning the box over. Whats it made of?
Are we going to discuss the recipe, or should we join the guests? Elodie tried to dodge.
It was already too late. Camille sensed something was offand she had reason. Three days earlier she had called her sister in tears:
I broke a nail and fought with Antoine. I have no desire for anything! Cancel the cake, cancel everything!
Elodie took the news philosophically and accepted an urgent order from a regular client. Yet that same afternoon Camille called back:
We made up! He gave me a gold bracelet! Ill be waiting at sevenpmwith the cake!
You cancelled everything Elodie stammered.
Stop making excuses! Youre a pastry chef; prove you can bake!
Elodie tried to explain that a cake couldnt be prepared in six hours, but Camille pressed on. She even phoned their mother, hoping for support:
Is it really that hard to please your own sister? she heard in response.
Realizing she was on her own, Elodie improvised: she bought an unsold cake from a littleknown baker also named Elodie (not her). It looked impressive from the outside. The intention counted, right? But Camille saw through the ruse instantly.
Elodie, come here! she shouted toward the kitchen.
A darkhaired woman with long hair appeared, and Elodie recognized her at once.
Is that your cake? Camille asked icily.
Its mine. She sold it to me, the other Elodie replied, smirking. So youre the legendary sister pastry chef?
Elodie froze. The guests fell silent. Camille, lips pursed, ripped off the lid, plunged a finger into the frostingand flung it violently at her sisters face.
Eat this trash yourself! she spat. You didnt even bother to make something yourself. Get out, please!
She pushed Elodie out the door before doing the same to the other baker, who, as she left, cursed the whole household and made an obscene gesture.
Outside, Elodie wiped her face with wipes and opened her phone. Dozens of messages from her mother awaited:
You disgrace the family! Betray your own sister! Are you ashamed?
She didnt reply. She simply turned off the screen in silence. But the drama wasnt over.
The next day Camille posted on social media: Dont even trust your sistershe brought me a storebought cake pretending it was hers. What a shame.
Elodie wept all morning. Then she gathered herself. Not for them, but for herself. That day she made a vow: no more cakes for the family, no more gestures of goodwill toward those who could crush you at any moment.
For the first time in ages she felt lighter. From now on, her life would contain only what is truly sweetno fakes, no hypocrisy, and no socalled family.
Clean Up Your Own Mess: How My Sister Embarrassed Me in Front of Everyone Over a Cake
