“Eat This Mess Yourself”: How My Sister Humiliated Me in Front of Everyone Over a Cake
Emily had carefully styled her hair, slipped into her prettiest dress, and, after a light spritz of perfume, set off for her older sister Charlottes birthday party. Clutched in her hands was a neatly wrapped box containing a cake, hoping it might soften the tension between them. When she reached the fifth floor, Emily rang the bell twice. The door swung open, and Charlotteradiant in a new dressing gown, her curls perfectly styledclapped her hands with delight.
“Is that for me? I suppose you havent forgotten my birthday?”
“Of course its for you,” Emily replied calmly, handing her the box.
Charlotte took the cake curiously, lifted the lid, and peeked inside. The admiration on her face quickly turned to suspicion.
“Did you make this?”
“Yes,” Emily answered, hesitating slightly.
“Really?” Charlotte frowned, turning the box in her hands. “Whats in it?”
“Are we really going to discuss the recipe, or should we join the guests?” Emily tried to deflect.
But it was too late. Charlotte sensed something was wrongand she was right. Three days earlier, shed called Emily in tears:
“I broke my nail and had a row with Daniel. I cant face any of it now! Cancel the cake, cancel everything!”
Emily had taken the news in stride and accepted an urgent order from a regular client. But that very afternoon, Charlotte called again:
“We made up! He bought me a gold bracelet! Ill see you at sevenwith the cake!”
“You cancelled everything,” Emily mumbled.
“Stop making excuses! Youre a bakerprove what you can do!”
Emily tried to explain that a proper cake couldnt be made in six hours, but Charlotte insisted. She even rang their mother, hoping for backup:
“Is it really so hard to do something nice for your own sister?” was the reply.
Realising she was on her own, Emily improvised: she bought an unsold cake from a lesser-known baker, also named Emily (no, not the same one). It looked impressive on the outside. The thought counted, didnt it? But Charlotte saw through the ruse immediately.
“Emily, come here!” she shouted toward the kitchen.
A brunette with long hair appeared, and Emily recognised her at once.
“Is this your cake?” Charlotte asked icily.
“Mine. She bought it from me. So this is your famous baker sister?” the other Emily sneered.
Emily froze. The guests fell silent. Charlotte, lips pressed tight, ripped off the lid, plunged her finger into the icingand smeared it across Emilys face.
“Eat this rubbish yourself!” she spat. “You couldnt even be bothered to make something yourself. Just leave!”
She shoved Emily out, then did the same to the other baker, who stormed off cursing and flipping a rude gesture.
Outside, Emily wiped her face with tissues and checked her phone. Dozens of messages from her mother waited:
“Youve disgraced the family! Lying to your own sister! Have you no shame?”
She didnt reply. She simply turned off the screen in silence. But it wasnt over.
The next day, Charlotte posted on social media: “Dont even trust your sistershe brought me a store-bought cake and pretended she made it. What a disgrace.”
Emily cried all morning. Then she pulled herself together. Not for them. For herself. That day, she made a vow: no more cakes for family. No more kindness for those whod crush her without a second thought.
And for the first time in years, she felt lighter. Because from now on, her life would only hold what was truly sweetno fakes, no lies, and no one who called themselves family but treated her like an afterthought.
