When my sister-in-law invited me to her son’s birthday, I hoped it meant peace. Instead, she set me up to look small in front of her friends. My clever response turned her plan upside down and showed everyone my true strength.
I’m Ava, married to my sweet husband, Lucas, for three years. He loves me as I am, but his sister, Brooke, acts like I’m not worthy. I work at Betty’s Bistro, serving coffee while studying at River Art College. To Brooke, my job and art passion make me “beneath” Lucas, a tech analyst. At last year’s family picnic, she said loudly, “Lucas could’ve found someone with a future.” Her words burned, so when she called last Tuesday, all kind, I was stunned. “Ava, come to Owen’s eighth birthday Saturday!” she said. She’d never invited me before. “Me?” I asked. “You’re family!” she said. My heart lifted—maybe she was opening up? I agreed.
Saturday, I wore my best jeans and a top Lucas liked. I wrapped Owen’s gift—an art kit I’d saved for, knowing he loved my drawings. Lucas held my hand as we reached Brooke’s fancy house in Pineview. “She’s warming up,” he said. My nerves buzzed, but I smiled. Brooke opened the door in a perfect dress, her smile stiff. “Ava!” She air-kissed me, then pulled me to the kitchen, leaving Lucas with Owen. Chic moms sipped drinks in the living room. “I need a favor,” Brooke said, gripping my arm. “What?” I asked. “Face painting! I told everyone you’re an artist. Start at 2, maybe balloons after?” Her smile was sharp.
“Face painting?” I said. “I didn’t bring supplies.” She shrugged. “The store’s nearby. Go grab some.” My stomach dropped. She didn’t want me as family—she wanted free work. “You want me to buy stuff and perform?” I asked. She laughed, drawing eyes. “Don’t make it a big deal! I thought you’d pitch in.” Moms chuckled, and Brooke added, “You’re not bringing much else.” I wanted to bolt, but I saw Owen outside, laughing with friends. He didn’t deserve a bad party. “Okay,” I said, planning. Brooke smirked, thinking she’d won. “Make it look good, Ava. These moms expect top-notch.”
I got paints, brushes, and glitter from the store, plus an idea. Back at the party, kids swarmed my patio setup, wanting pirates, flowers, and dogs. I painted for hours, impressing parents. “Brooke, she’s amazing!” one said. Brooke took the praise, grinning. After the last kid got a butterfly, I turned to her. “You deserve a treat,” I said kindly. “Me?” she said, excited. “Something fancy, for my stories,” she said, sitting. Moms filmed. “Close your eyes,” I said. She did, smiling.
I painted her face white, added a red nose, blue dots, and a wide red grin, finishing with glitter. “Done!” I said. She checked her phone and shrieked, seeing her clown face. “What’s this?” Kids laughed, moms hid grins. “You look fun!” I said, pretending surprise. “I thought you’d love the spotlight.” She scrubbed her face, smearing glitter. “Fix it!” she yelled. I packed up. “No fixes.” I gave Owen his gift. “Happy birthday,” I said. He smiled, asking, “Can we draw?” I nodded, then whispered to Brooke, “Don’t try to embarrass me. I’m better at this.” I grabbed a brownie and left, hearing her yell. Lucas followed, stunned. “She set you up?” I nodded, eating. “But I won.” He laughed, hugging me. In the mirror, Brooke stood, glittery and mad. Don’t underestimate someone you’ve dismissed—they’ll outshine you.
