Not from sadness.
No, I was pissed.
Then I had an idea.
I called my girlfriend, Lily.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice even. “Want to go out for dinner tonight?”
She could tell something was up immediately.
“Of course. What’s wrong?”
I told her everything.
She didn’t even hesitate.
“Come over. My parents will want to celebrate with you too.”
Now, I love Lily’s parents. They’ve always treated me with more kindness in the past 3 years than my own parents have my whole life.
And when I got to their house, her mom greeted me with a hug.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart. Come in. We’re going somewhere nice.”
We ended up at this high-end steakhouse, the kind of place my parents love to brag about going to.
The whole night was perfect.
Lily’s dad even ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate me turning 21.
And for the first time that day, I actually felt wanted.
But the real fun happened when I posted about it.
After dinner, I took a picture of the restaurant entrance and posted it on Instagram with the caption:
“Huge thank you to my girlfriend and her amazing family for making my birthday special. So grateful to have people who actually care about me.”
I wasn’t expecting a response from my parents.
I figured they wouldn’t even see it until the next day.
But less than an hour later, my phone started blowing up.
First, a text from my mom.
“Mom: What is this post, Alex?”
Then my dad.
“Dad: Are you serious right now?”
Then a fullon phone call.
I let it ring, smirking to myself.
Then another.
Then another.
They were fuming.
And I knew exactly why.
It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t regret.
It was jealousy.
They were the ones who were supposed to be seen as the good parents.
They loved playing the role of the perfect family, posting online about their fancy dinners and how proud they were of Emma.