“Clean Up Your Own Mess: How My Sister Humiliated Me in Front of Everyone Over a Cake”

Eat that mess yourself: how my sister embarrassed me in front of everyone over a cake
Elodie had taken great care with her hair, slipped into her nicest dress and, after a light spritz of perfume, headed to her older sister Camilles birthday. In her hands she carried a neatly wrapped box containing a cake, hoping it would be a pleasant surprise and perhaps smooth over their strained relationship. When she reached the fifthfloor apartment she rang twice. The door opened, and Camilleradiant in a fresh robe, her curls perfectgreeted her with an enthusiastic clap:
Is that for me?! Its my birthday, you didnt forget, did you?
Of course its for you, Elodie replied calmly, handing over the box.
Camille lifted the lid with curiosity and peeked inside. Admiration on her face quickly turned into suspicion.
Did you bake this yourself?
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.
But 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 my nail and fought with Antoine. I dont want anything! Cancel the cake, cancel everything!
Elodie took the news philosophically and had accepted an urgent order from a regular client. Yet that same afternoon Camille called back:
Were reconciled! He gave me a gold bracelet! Ill be waiting at sevenoclock with the cake!
Youd cancelled everything Elodie stammered.
Stop making excuses! Youre a baker, prove what you can do!
Elodie tried to explain that a cake couldnt be made in six hours, but Camille pressed on. She even phoned their mother, hoping for some support:
Is it really that hard to please your own sister? the mother replied.
Realizing she was on her own, Elodie improvised: she bought an unsold cake from a littleknown pastry shop owned by another Elodie. It looked impressive on the outside. The intention mattered, right? But Camille saw through the ruse instantly.
Elodie, come here! she shouted toward the kitchen.
A brunette with long hair appeared, and Elodie recognized her at once.
Is that your cake? Camille asked icily.
Mine. She bought it for me. So youre the legendary sisterbaker? the other Elodie sneered.
Elodie froze. The guests fell silent. Camille, lips pressed, ripped off the lid, plunged a finger into the frostingand flung it violently at her sisters face.
Eat that junk yourself! she spat. You didnt even bother to make anything yourself. Get out, please!
She shoved Elodie onto the street 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:
Youre disgracing the family! Betraying your own sister! Are you ashamed?
She didnt reply, simply turned off the screen in silence. Yet it wasnt over.
The next day Camille posted on social media: Dont even trust your sistershe brought me a storebought cake and pretended it was hers. What a shame.
Elodie cried all morning. Then she gathered herself. Not for them, but for herself. That day she swore: no more cakes for the family, no more gestures of goodwill toward those who could crush you at any moment.
And for the first time in ages she felt lighter. From then on her life would contain only what is truly sweetno fakes, no hypocrisy, and no one pretending to be family.