Claire’s birthday takes an unexpected turn when her sister’s diet obsession turns the celebration upside down. Determined not to ruin her special day, Claire plans a bold move and gives Mel a taste of her own medicine. Will Claire’s daring response save the day or create even more chaos?
“Mel, can you come over to help me with the birthday party?” I asked, sinking deeper into my cozy armchair, my phone snug against my ear.
“Of course, Claire!” Mel chirped, her voice bubbly. “What do you need me to handle?”
“Decorations and food,” I said, a wave of relief washing over me. “I really need an extra pair of hands today.”
“No worries,” she replied easily. “I’ll take care of everything.”
I smiled, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. “Thank you, Mel! I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll transfer you some money for the decorations, drinks, and a simple BBQ spread.”
“Sounds great. I’ll make sure everything looks beautiful,” Mel promised with her usual confidence.
As soon as we hung up, I transferred the money to her account, trusting her completely. She always had an eye for style and a knack for making things look perfect. I texted her the list of items I had in mind and reminded her I’d leave the house key under the doormat.
“Hey, love, are we all set for the party?” my fiancé, Eric, asked as I fired off my last text to Mel.
“Almost,” I said, getting up and giving him a warm smile. “Mel is handling the food and decor. We just need to grab cups and plates from the store.”
“I thought we had enough,” he said, tilting his head in confusion.
“I thought so too,” I admitted with a little laugh. “But I realized we’re running low. I don’t want to risk running out halfway through the party.”
“Good thinking,” Eric said, grabbing the car keys. “Let’s get going so we can relax later.”
As we drove to the supermarket, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbled inside me. Parties always made me feel that way, but knowing Mel and Eric were helping made everything feel less overwhelming.
I imagined how cheerful and inviting the backyard would look, filled with colorful balloons and delicious food. I knew Mel would do a fantastic job, and a BBQ always brought people together.
“Are you okay?” Eric asked, glancing over at me as he navigated the morning traffic.
“Yeah,” I said with a small smile. “I was just imagining how everything will come together.”
“It’ll be perfect, Claire,” he said, squeezing my hand lightly. “We’ve got this.”
At the store, we quickly gathered the extra supplies we needed. As we packed them into the car, I felt a little wave of accomplishment wash over me.
Everything was finally falling into place.
“We’re back!” I called out as Eric and I carried the cups and plates into the backyard. But my joy dissolved in an instant when I saw what was on the table.
Instead of a festive spread, there were piles of raw veggies, dry rice cakes, and several containers of 0% fat yogurt stacked neatly.
And the cake? There was no cake. In its place sat half a watermelon with candles stuck into it.
I felt my heart plummet to my stomach. This was not what I had envisioned at all.
Eric’s eyes grew wide as he took in the sight. “What’s happening here?” he asked, clearly bewildered.
“I have no idea,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
I spotted Mel bustling around the table and hurried over, pulling her aside. “Mel, what happened to the BBQ?” I asked, trying hard to keep my voice steady.
“Oh, I thought it wasn’t a good idea considering your… figure, so I made healthier choices!” she said brightly, as if she’d just done me the biggest favor.
I stood frozen, my cheeks burning. Coming from a family where curves were celebrated, I had finally learned to love myself. But Mel had always been obsessed with dieting — jumping from one fad to another without ever sticking to anything.
She looked so pleased with herself, and it only fueled my anger. But I swallowed it down. The guests were beginning to arrive, and I didn’t want a scene to ruin the day.
“Mel, this is supposed to be a fun party!” I said, my voice trembling. “People want to enjoy good food!”
“I just thought this would be better for everyone,” she shrugged as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I turned away, taking a deep breath. I needed to fix this, fast. I went over to Eric, who was staring at the table in disbelief.
“Eric, we need to order proper food immediately. The guests will be here any minute,” I whispered urgently.
“Got it,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll order pizza and some burgers. We won’t let this ruin your birthday.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, gratitude swelling in my chest.
As Eric placed the orders, I tried to greet the arriving guests, forcing a smile even as my heart pounded. People glanced at the table, their eyes full of polite confusion.
“What’s going on with the food?” one friend asked hesitantly.
“Just a little mix-up,” I said with an awkward laugh. “More food is on the way, don’t worry.”
Eric returned with a nod. “The food’s coming in about thirty minutes,” he whispered.
“Perfect,” I sighed. “Thank you so much.”
“Hang in there, Claire,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “We’ve got this under control.”
Suddenly, Mel snapped. She threw her hands up, her voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter.
“SORRY FOR BEING SUCH A HORRIBLE SISTER, JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU DROP ALL THAT FLAB!” she shrieked, her voice echoing across the yard. “KEEP SHOVING BBQ INTO YOUR MOUTH, BUT DON’T EXPECT ME TO SAVE YOU WHEN YOUR FIANCÉ LEAVES!”
The entire yard fell into an eerie silence. Guests shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other with wide eyes. I felt my face flame with embarrassment and rage.
“Mel, please stop this,” I said, dragging her aside again.
She glared at me, her eyes flashing with resentment. “I was only trying to help you, Claire. You never listen!”
“This isn’t the time or place for this,” I said firmly, my hands trembling. “We can talk about this later, away from everyone.”
“Folks, let’s just enjoy the evening. Food will be here shortly, and we can all relax,” Eric announced, stepping in to calm the crowd. I felt a wave of gratitude for his steady support.
Mel stood there with her arms crossed, seething. But thankfully, she didn’t say another word. I could see the guests trying to regain their smiles, looking anywhere but at us.
“I’m really sorry, everyone,” I said, addressing them directly. “There was a small hiccup, but it’s all sorted now. Please make yourselves at home.”
I slipped inside and hurriedly scribbled a note for the delivery driver. “Please hand the order directly to me (Claire), not my sister,” I wrote, sticking it firmly on the front door.
Every second dragged on as I waited for the food. I kept checking the clock, praying it would arrive soon. Finally, the doorbell rang.
I raced to the door and was greeted by the friendly delivery guy, arms loaded with warm, delicious-smelling food.
“Thank you so much,” I said, almost breathless with relief.
“Enjoy!” he said with a grin.
Carrying the food into the backyard, I felt my determination surge. I was not going to let Mel’s sabotage win. Tonight was still going to be mine.
“Alright, everyone!” I called out, setting the BBQ and sides down. “The real food is here! Let’s dig in and make some memories!”
I began serving guests generous plates loaded with BBQ, salads, and all the good stuff. I smiled, laughed, and chatted with each one, determined to set the tone.
When I got to Mel, I felt a spark of mischief ignite inside me. I piled every rice cake and raw veggie I could find onto a plate, stacking them high like a leaning tower.
“Mel,” I called sweetly, catching everyone’s attention. “I made a special plate just for you!”
She looked up, surprised and wary. I handed her the towering plate, leaning in closer. “Make sure to stick with your healthy choices. Wouldn’t want you to become ‘undesirable’ now, would we?”
Her face turned crimson. She glanced at me, then at the plate, her jaw tight. “Thanks,” she muttered, barely above a whisper.
“Everyone, enjoy!” I said cheerfully, moving on to the next guest.
I kept an eye on her. Mel stood alone, poking at her mountain of veggies, her face a perfect portrait of discomfort and humiliation. After a while, she quietly set her plate down and shuffled toward the gate.
“I’m leaving,” she mumbled as she passed me, not daring to meet my eyes.
“Alright,” I replied calmly, shrugging.
I watched her walk away, feeling a wave of relief wash over me.
The BBQ was a massive hit. Guests came up to me, praising the food and decorations, enjoying themselves like I had always envisioned. And most importantly, my dear sister Mel finally learned that her “help” wasn’t welcome — and that I was more than capable of standing up for myself.
