Eat this mess yourself: how my sister embarrassed me in front of everyone over a cake
Elodie had neatly styled her hair, slipped into her finest dress, added a light spray of perfume, and set off for her older sister Camilles birthday. In her hands she carried a carefully wrapped box with a cake, hoping it would be a pleasant surprise and soften their strained relationship. When she arrived on the fifth floor, Elodie knocked twice. The door opened, and Camillebeaming in a fresh robe, her curls immaculateapplauded enthusiastically:
Its 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 with curiosity, lifted the lid and glanced inside. Admiration on her face quickly turned to suspicion.
Did you make this yourself?
Yes, Elodie answered, a hint of hesitation in her voice.
Are you sure? Camille furrowed her brows, turning the box over. Whats it made of?
Shall we discuss the recipe or join the guests? Elodie tried to dodge the question.
It was already too late. Camille sensed something was offand she had a reason. Three days earlier she had called her sister in tears:
I broke a nail and fought with Antoine. I dont want anything! Cancel the cake, cancel everything!
Elodie had taken the news in stride and accepted an urgent order from a regular client. Yet that same afternoon Camille called back:
Were good again! He gave me a gold bracelet! Ill be waiting at sevennineteen with the cake!
You had cancelled everything Elodie stammered.
Stop making excuses! Youre a pastry chefshow us what you can do!
Elodie tried to explain that a cake couldnt be prepared in six hours, but Camille persisted. She even phoned their mother, hoping for some backing:
Is it really that hard to please your own sister? the mothers voice echoed.
Realising she was on her own, Elodie improvised: she bought an unsold cake from a littleknown baker also named Elodie (different person). It looked impressive from the outside. The intention mattered, right? But Camille spotted the ruse instantly.
Elodie, come here! she shouted toward the kitchen.
A brunette with long hair appeared, and Elodie recognized her immediately.
Is this your cake? Camille asked icily.
Its mine. She sold it to me, the other Elodie replied, sneering, So youre the legendary pastrysister?
Elodie froze. The guests fell silent. Camille, lips pressed together, ripped off the lid, plunged a finger into the frosting and smeared it violently across her sisters face.
Eat this mess yourself! she spat. You didnt even bother to make anything yourself. Get out, please!
She shoved Elodie out the door, then did the same to the other baker, who left cursing the whole household and making an obscene gesture.
Outside, Elodie wiped her face with wet wipes and opened her phone. Dozens of messages from her mother waited:
You disgrace the family! Betray your own sister! Are you ashamed?
She didnt answer, simply turned the screen off in silence. But the ordeal wasnt over.
The next day Camille posted on social media: Dont ever trust your sistershe brought me a storebought cake pretending it was hers. What a shame.
Elodie cried all morning, then gathered herself. Not for them, but for herself. That day she swore: no more cakes for the family, no more gestures of goodwill toward people who could crush you at any moment.
For the first time in ages she felt lighter, because now her life would contain only what is truly sweetno fakes, no hypocrisy, and no selfproclaimed family.
Clean Up Your Own Mess: How My Sister Embarrassed Me in Front of Everyone Over a Cake
