“This seats for close family,” my cousin Brandon said while shoving me aside. I snapped. Then let your real family pay the damn $4,700 bill.
I walked out and left them to rot in their own mess.
I had always felt that my relatives never saw any real value in me growing up. I was the odd one, the quiet kid who never fit into their world. While my cousins bragged about wild weekends and flashy clothes, I stayed buried in books, learning, working, and planning my way out.
I never cared about impressing anyone, least of all my selfish, full of themselves family.
Then life took a turn, and I ended up succeeding. I pushed myself, built my own path, and made more money than any of them ever had. Not that they admitted it. They pretended not to care until there was something in it for them.
Which brings us to tonight.
I had no intention of seeing them again. I had avoided these gatherings for years. They always felt fake, filled with forced laughter, cold star, and reminders that no matter what I achieved, I would always just be that nobody.
But my mother, bless her, begged me, “Just come to one dinner, Robert. It’s been years.”
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