My cheeks burned, and the table fell into an awkward silence. I swallowed the sting, paid my share without arguing, and tried to brush it off — but inside, I felt humiliated. Fast-forward a week.
Lisa sent out invites for her birthday dinner at a ridiculously expensive rooftop restaurant — the type with tiny portions and huge prices. I debated not going, but everyone else was attending, so I reluctantly said yes. The night was beautiful, the view stunning, and Lisa was in full diva mode, ordering rounds of drinks, appetizers, the most expensive entrée on the menu, plus dessert.
“Oh my God… I think I forgot my wallet,” she said, voice dripping with fake shock. The table went dead silent. No one moved.
No one offered. We all remembered last week. So I took out my card, placed it calmly on the tray, and said, “I’ll pay for myself.
Just myself.”Continue reading…
