Eat This Mess Yourself: How My Sister Publicly Humiliated Me Over a Cake
Elodie had brushed her hair meticulously, slipped into her finest dress, and after a light spritz of perfume, set off for her older sister Camilles birthday. In her hands she clutched 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, Elodie knocked twice. The door opened and Camilleradiant in a fresh robe, her curls immaculategreeted her with enthusiasm:
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, peered inside, and her expression of admiration quickly turned skeptical.
Did you bake this yourself?
Yes, Elodie answered, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
Are you sure? Camille frowned, turning the box over. Whats it made of?
Are we going to discuss the recipe, or should we join the guests? Elodie tried to deflect.
It was already too late. Camille sensed something was offand she had reason to. 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 had taken 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 seven p.m.with the cake!
You had cancelled everything Elodie stammered.
Stop making excuses! Youre a pastry chef, prove it! Camille demanded.
Elodie tried to explain that a cake couldnt be baked in six hours, but Camille persisted. She even rang their mother, hoping for some backing:
Is it really that hard to do something nice for your own sister? her mother replied.
Realizing she was on her own, Elodie improvised: she bought an unsold cake from a littleknown baker also named Elodie (not her). It looked decent on the outside. The intention mattered, right? But Camille saw through the ruse instantly.
Elodie, come here! she shouted toward the kitchen.
A darkhaired brunette appeared, and Elodie recognized her immediately.
Is this your cake? Camille asked coldly.
Its mine. She sold it to me, the other Elodie replied, sneering. So youre the legendary sister pastry chef?
Elodie froze. The guests fell silent. Camille, lips pressed together, ripped the lid off, plunged a finger into the frosting, and splashed it straight into her sisters face.
Eat this mess yourself! she spat. You didnt even bother to make something yourself. Get out of here!
She pushed Elodie onto the street, 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 a wet wipe, opened her phone, and found dozens of messages from her mother:
Youve disgraced the family! Betraying your own sister! Are you ashamed?
She didnt answer; she simply turned off the screen. But the drama wasnt over.
The next day Camille posted on social media: Never trust your sistershe brought me a storebought cake and pretended it was hers. What a shame.
Elodie spent the whole morning crying, 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 step on 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.
Take This Mess Into Your Own Hands”: How My Sister Publicly Humiliated Me Over a Cake
