Worthless In Their Eyes, Perfect In His

I was surprised the cake hadn't fallen from my hand yet. Maybe it was because I had 'fat hands' that balanced it, or a better reason could be because I used almost my entire savings to buy it for my boyfriend and didn't want it to waste.

Adrian sat at the table with my sister, my mother was also there, and there was a blonde woman, slender and tall, seated on his lap. They continued talking, oblivious of the fact that I heard them.

"So, you're telling me that your fat girlfriend threw a birthday for you? Adrian baby, you told me you'd break up with the bitch already. You don't love me."

"Lily baby, I love you." Adrian called out cooingly. He even wrapped his hand around her tiny waist, while using the other to stroke her hair lovingly. An action he had never done with me. He always made excuses that physical touches weren't his love language. Here he was, not only touching her hair and waist, but she was placing her entire ass on his thighs.

Lily pouted her lips and spoke in a cringe voice that was way softer than the first, as though she was trying to sound like a baby.

"If you love me, you won't attend this trash birthday she's throwing for you. Look at the ugly balloons. I can do better for you."

The pain I felt in my heart became mixed with anger. Who exactly was she to call balloons I had bought with my last source of money ugly? The birthday decoration was minimalistic, and I had taken my time to design it myself.

I restrained myself from slamming the cake in her face yet. I stood by the corner, watching and listening to them. What I heard hurt me, but for some inexplicable reason, I wanted to hear more.

"That fat pig, she's always doing too much." Angela, my stepsister said, her voice heavy with mockery. "She's pathetic, and you deserve better. Let's just wait to eat her dumb cake."

Adrian laughed at the statement, the girl who he was cheating with laughed even louder.

He held her hand, caressing and squeezing it gently. "I assure you sweetheart, after eating her cake, I'd break up with her, even if it means ghosting her afterwards."

My mother, Claire was there in the living room, adding nothing to the conversation. Her face was buried in a magazine. I couldn't expect any defense from her. Since I was a child, she hated me more than anyone.

(Cough, Cough, Cough) She pushed out air from her lungs and finally raised her face from the magazine. Angela gave her a glass of water. After she regained her voice, she looked towards the door and hissed. "When is she going to arrive with the cake? Her body is probably too heavy for her to walk like a normal person." I could feel the venom in her voice, so condescending and hatred-filled.

They continued to discuss