Birthdays have always been special to me. They’re not about gifts or cake — they’re about feeling seen, surrounded by people who care. This year, I wanted something simple yet meaningful.
After weeks of exhaustion from work, all I wished for was one evening filled with laughter, good food, and warmth. So I chose a vegan restaurant downtown — cozy, candlelit, filled with the scent of herbs and roasted vegetables. I’d been there once before and remembered how soft jazz played in the background, how the dim lights made every plate look like a small celebration.
I invited seven of my closest friends — people I’d known for years, who had shared both my good and bad days. Some had teased me about my love for vegan food before, but I didn’t think much of it. I thought they’d come for me, not the menu.
The Evening Felt Perfect
That night, everything felt right. We gathered around a round wooden table near the window. The city lights shimmered softly through the glass.
The air buzzed with laughter, stories, and old inside jokes that carried our friendship back through time. We ordered lentil stew, roasted cauliflower, stuffed mushrooms, fresh salads, and glasses of sparkling lemonade. Even those who usually joked about “missing meat” seemed to enjoy themselves.
For a few hours, the world felt gentle. We talked about work, travel, love, and memories we hadn’t revisited in years. I remember thinking, This is what I wanted — connection, not perfection.
When the Bill Arrived
Then came the check. The waiter placed a small black folder in the center of the table and walked away with a polite smile. The music kept playing, the lights still glowed — but suddenly, everything felt… still.
No one reached for it. The laughter faded. The warmth in the room thinned into quiet tension.
After a few long seconds, I opened it myself. The total was $375. It wasn’t shocking — I knew good food and good company came at a price.
What surprised me wasn’t the number. It was the silence that followed. “You Should Pay”
I looked around, waiting for someone to say, Let’s split it.
Instead, one of my friends finally broke the silence. “You should pay,” she said casually. “We don’t even like vegan food.
We only came here for you.”
Her words landed like a quiet sting — not cruel, but careless enough to hurt. I looked around again, hoping someone would speak up, maybe laugh it off, maybe disagree. But no one did.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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