When I stepped back into the dining room, it was like nothing had happened.

My mom was slicing pie like she hadn’t just admitted to “forgetting” me.
My dad was pouring more wine.
Lisa and Mark were leaned in whispering, the same smug little smiles on their faces.

I sat down, smooth and calm.

Lisa raised an eyebrow.

“Thought you left.”

I met her eyes.

“Why would I leave? It was just a silly mistake… right?”

She gave me that slow, fake-sweet smile.

“Of course. Just a little mix-up.”

Mark snorted.

“You’re taking this way too seriously. It’s not like we did it on purpose.”

I tilted my head.

“You planned a whole reunion.
Booked a venue, ordered food, sent invites…
and the one thing you forgot was to send a text to the person who wires you money every month?”

The table went quiet for a beat.

My mom sighed dramatically.

“Rachel, don’t be like this. It’s the holidays. Let’s not ruin the mood over a simple mistake.”

There it was. The script.
This was the part where I was supposed to swallow the hurt, plaster on a smile, and pretend it didn’t matter.

I’d done that my entire life.

Not this time.

I spun my fork between my fingers and said lightly,

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about the money I send you guys every month.”

That got their attention.

Lisa sat up just a little straighter.
My mom’s smile twitched.
My dad finally looked up from his plate.

“What about it?” Mark asked, suspicion leaking into his voice.

I shrugged.

“Just funny, I help pay Lisa’s rent when she’s ‘a little short,’ I cover Mom and Dad’s medical bills, and I send Mark money for… whatever it is he does these days. And somehow I was the only one who didn’t know my own family was getting together.”

Lisa forced a nervous laugh.

“Come on, you’re not actually mad, are you?”

I didn’t answer.

Mark rolled his eyes.

“You’re so dramatic. Nobody’s out to get you. You’re doing fine. You’ve got your fancy job, your nice house, your perfect life.”

There it was. The jealousy.

I smiled.

“You’re right. I do.”

Lisa snapped,

“Don’t be p*tty.”

I leaned forward, voice soft.

“P*tty is throwing an entire reunion and ‘forgetting’ to invite the one person keeping half this table afloat.”

Mark huffed, then smirked.

“Whatever. You’ll get over it. I already ordered those new Jordans with the money you send me every month.
You wouldn’t actually cut us off over something this stupid… right?”

The room froze.

My mom’s fork stopped mid-air.
Lisa’s eyes widened.
My dad finally stopped pretending the mashed potatoes were fascinating.

Mark just grinned.

“You wouldn’t do that to your family.”

I set my napkin down, folded it neatly, and smiled back at him.

“Wouldn’t I?”