During a family dinner, Julia’s parents unexpectedly asked her to pay for her own dinner, while they paid for everyone else’s. This took the girl by surprise. The more Julia thought about this injustice, the more her resentment grew, laying the groundwork for a confrontation that the family would remember for a long time.
I was eating microwaved noodles when I got a text from my mum about a ‘special family dinner’ and nearly choked. It had been a long time since we’d all been together, and even longer since I’d felt like my parents wanted to see me.
Being the middle child in a ‘family sandwich’ where everyone is vying for attention is like being a slice of ham: sort of part of the sandwich, but always in the background.
Holding my finger over my phone’s keypad, I stared at the screen. Part of me wanted to think of some excuse not to go, but then I remembered Katya and Anton – my perfect big sister and little brother who never makes mistakes.
As always, they’ll be there, basking in Mum and Dad’s approval. And if I don’t attend, I’ll be left off the board again.
I quickly typed: ‘I’ll be there,’ and sent the message, not giving myself a chance to change my mind.
Mum replied instantly: ‘Great! Next Friday at 7pm at Le Petit Chateau. Please don’t be late.’
‘Le Petit Chateau.’ Sounds elegant. I whistled, mentally calculating my savings. It wouldn’t be cheap, but perhaps it was a sign that something was changing. Maybe they really care about Julia the invisible girl.
I was nervous on Friday, arriving at the restaurant ten minutes before the appointed time. I was about to go in when Mum and Dad drove up. Mum was beaming and Dad looked anxious as always.
We got a nice table and soon Katya and her husband joined us. As usual, Katya looked stunning, making me feel like a grey mouse next to her. Finally, Anton arrived – late as usual, complaining about the traffic.
When we were all seated, Mum immediately began to downplay my importance.
‘Yulia,’ Mum said, looking at me over the menu, ‘how are you doing at work? Still at that tiny marketing company?
I nodded, trying to contain my irritation at the word ‘tiny’.
Yeah, it’s good. We recently signed a big client. I’m heading up that campaign.
That’s not bad,’ Mum commented, but her attention had already turned to Katya, who was telling Dad about her son’s latest football match.
It hurt, but the atmosphere warmed during the meal. The food was so delicious that we started joking and laughing like when we were kids.
I savoured the moment until the waiter brought the bill.
As usual, Dad reached for the cheque to check it. But then he frowned and looked at me.
‘Yulia, you’re paying your portion tonight,’ he said in an unexpectedly stern tone.
I blinked, thinking I’d misheard.
What?
You’re an adult now,’ he continued, as if he were instructing a child. – It’s time for you to pay your own expenses.
But… it’s a family dinner,’ I said quietly. – You’re paying for everyone else.
Dad frowned even harder.
Your brother and sister are supporting their families. And you’re single, so it’s only fair.
The words echoed in my head. I forced myself to hold back the tears that came to my eyes and silently handed the waiter my credit card, hoping it wouldn’t be declined.
The rest of the evening passed like a blur. On the drive home, the resentment began to turn into something more powerful: anger.
In the morning, I woke up with a heavy heart and a single decision – I wasn’t just going to let this go.
I began to think through a plan. After a few days of deliberation, I invited my mum and dad over to my house for dinner.
I spent a lot of money on beautiful candles, cleaned the flat thoroughly, and even laid a real tablecloth.
When the day of dinner came, I was surprisingly calm. I had a plan and I was going to put it into action.
At exactly 7:00 pm, the doorbell rang. I smiled, took a deep breath, and opened it.
Daddy, Mummy! Come in!
Daddy handed me a bottle of wine.
It’s beautiful here, Yulia.
Thank you,’ I said, walking them into the living room. – Dinner’s almost ready. Would you like some wine?
We talked about nothing for a while, until the oven beeped.
Dinner is ready! – I announced, perhaps a little too cheerfully.
The meal exceeded my expectations. Dad and Mum praised the food and I was ready for the decisive moment.
When it was time for dessert, I placed the plates on the table and said with ease:
I hope you enjoyed your dinner. That’ll be 4,500 roubles each.
The silence was deafening. Mum dropped her fork, and Dad looked at me with a look of bewilderment that quickly changed to irritation.
I’m sorry, what?
I replied calmly:
You’re adults. It’s your turn to pay your own expenses now.
Mum opened her mouth like a fish gulping for air.
‘But this is your house… You invited us.
Yes,’ I said coldly. – Just as you invited me to Le Petit Chateau and then made me pay for myself.
Realising the meaning of my words, they looked embarrassed.
Dad sighed heavily:
Yulia, we didn’t mean to…
Didn’t want what? – I interrupted, spewing out years of accumulated resentment. – To make me realise that I was less important than Katya and Anton? Or just didn’t think about the consequences?
Mum, almost crying, whispered:
‘Darling, we had no idea you felt this way.
Of course you didn’t realise,’ I grinned bitterly. – Because you never noticed me.
Dad stood up and hugged me:
‘We see you, Yulia. And we’re proud of you.
Nothing drastically changed that night, but it was a step forward.When my parents left that evening, I felt different. The conversation couldn’t instantly erase years of resentment and feeling unappreciated. But it was the first step.
The crack in the wall I’d built around myself for so many years allowed a ray of hope to penetrate.
Mum, laughing through her tears, asked:
Well, what about the bill?
I couldn’t contain my smile:
This time dinner is on the house. But next time we go out, we’ll split the bill equally. Everyone.
Dad nodded, his gaze serious:
It’s a deal.
Nothing magical happened that night. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could actually be seen. And that was the beginning of something new.
