My Receipt Her Humiliation

A thousand dollars. You really didnt send it?
The team group chata bustling Slack channel of forty-seven peoplewent instantly silent after Brittany tagged me.
I was finalizing a quarterly report, and the notification made me pause, a strange, cold feeling blooming in my chest.
Brittany followed up instantly: @Eliza. I gave you a thousand dollars for your wedding, and you couldnt even reciprocate for mine? Thats not cool, Eliza.
I stared at the screen, and a slow, toxic laugh bubbled up inside me.
Three months ago, she got married. I transferred the moneya full thousand dollars. She confirmed receipt.
Now, she was claiming I hadnt.
Interesting.
I didnt reply. I minimized Slack and opened my bank app.
September 15th, 2024, 2:47 p.m.
I remembered the exact time and date.
1
The notifications on Slack kept flashing.
Brittany, dont be mad, maybe Eliza just forgot.
Yeah, were all colleagues, a friendly reminder is enough.
Eliza is usually so quiet. She doesnt seem like the kind of person whod do that
I watched the messages scroll up.
Not a single person asked a simple question: Is there a misunderstanding?
Brittany posted another message: Its fine, its not like I desperately need the cash. I just believe in integrity. Some people seem nice on the surface, but you only see their true colors when money is involved.
I gripped my phone tightly.
Three months ago. September 15th. Her wedding.
I remembered it so clearly.
That afternoon, Id received the digital invite while sitting at my desk. I thought about it, then sent the money: 0-0,000.
It was exactly one-quarter of my monthly salary.
When I sent the Venmo transfer, I even wrote a little note: Congrats on the big day!
She replied immediately: Got it, thanks, sweetie!
Id even screenshotted the exchange to show my mother, who commented on how convenient digital gifts were nowadays.
Only three months had passed.
How could she have forgotten?
I pulled up our chat history. The September 15th exchange was right there.
The transfer receipt, her instant, enthusiastic confirmationall present and accounted for.
I looked at the little heart emoji shed used, then back at the ugly messages filling the team chat.
Brittanys newest post: I dont want to make this awkward, Eliza, but you really owe everyone an explanation.
I took a deep breath.
An explanation?
Fine.
I was about to capture the screenshot and drop it into the chat when the office door opened.
Eliza, Ms. Reyes needs to see you.
It was Mia from Admin.
I put my phone away and stood up.
As I walked toward the door, I heard the quiet, conspiratorial whispers behind me:
Did she really not send it?
I dont know, but Brittany wouldnt lie in the group chat
A thousand dollars, though. Thats not exactly pocket change.
I didn't turn around.
Ms. Reyes needed me to prepare materials for next month's project presentation.
I sat in her office, listening to her talk for ten minutes, my mind a blank loop of the messages Id just read.
When I came out, it was nearly quitting time.
I returned to my desk and checked my phone.
The chat had exploded with dozens more messages.
All about me.
Where is Eliza? Why isnt she saying anything?
Is she feeling guilty?
I think she needs to address this, honestly.
Brittanys latest comment: Look, I dont want to cause drama. Everyone, please just log off and enjoy your evening. Dont let this ruin the office atmosphere.
That was a beautiful performance. Sanctimonious and slick.
I scrolled down and saw a private message. It was from Brittany.
Eliza, I know you might be having difficulties, but at least reply to me. Going silent like this makes me look bad.
I stared at the message for a long time.
Difficulties?
What difficulties did I have?
I sent the money, you received it, and you confirmed receipt.
Now youre saying I didnt.
Who was making whom look bad?
I didnt reply.
I opened my phones photo folder and found the original screenshot. The one showing the 0-0,000 transfer and her reply: Got it, thanks, sweetie!
I then took a clean screenshot of the bank transfer record: September 15th, 2024, 2:47:23 p.m. Recipient: Brittany Miller. Amount: 0-0,000.
I saved both images.
Then I locked my phone, gathered my things, and left.
By the time I walked out of the company doors, the sky was dark.
Standing at the bus stop, waiting for the Route 43, my mind kept circling the same question.
Why would she do this?
Why lie about receiving the money when she clearly had the record?
Could it really be a system error?
Impossible. The bank record was there. The chat confirmation was there.
She was doing this on purpose.
But why target me?
It didnt make sense.
The bus arrived. I got on and found a window seat.
The streetlights blurred as we drove past.
Then, I remembered something.
Last month, when Owen and I got married.
Brittany had sent $750.
$250 less than Id given her.
I hadnt thought anything of it at the time. Everyones financial situation is different.
But now
Did she feel like shed lost money?
I gave 0-0,000, and she only gave $750. Did she feel slighted, and this was her way of evening the scoreby simply claiming she never received my money at all?
When the thought surfaced, even I was shocked by its pettiness.
But the more I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.
Some peoples logic truly defied understanding.
I got off the bus and walked home.
My phone vibrated again.
The team chat.
Brittany had posted: Lets put todays issue behind us. I dont want to bring it up again. I hope this wont affect the positive work environment.
Beneath it, a chorus of replies: Got it, Dont worry about it, Brittany, dont take it to heart.
I looked at the messages, a cold stone settling in my stomach.
I was the one who had been wronged.
But she was the one receiving all the sympathy.
I didnt post anything.
I knew that if I released the screenshots now, it would cause utter chaos.
But I didnt want to act impulsively.
I wanted to wait and see how far she was willing to take this performance.
When I got home, Owen had already made dinner.
Whats wrong? You look pale.
I handed him my phone.
He glanced at the chat, a frown creasing his forehead.
Is she crazy? You clearly sent it.
She says she didnt receive it.
Dont you have proof?
I do.
Then what are you waiting for? He handed the phone back. Post the screenshots and shut her down.
I shook my head.
Not yet.
Wait for what?
I looked out at the dark evening sky.
Wait for her to make another mistake.
2
The next morning, the office atmosphere was subtle but pervasive.
The way my colleagues looked at me it was a clinical examination.
I sat down at my desk, trying to appear unbothered, and logged into my computer.
Brittany arrived later than I did.
She paused deliberately as she passed my desk.
Eliza, she leaned in, lowering her voice, have you decided what youre going to do about yesterday?
I looked up at her.
Her face was fixed in a careful expression of Im being incredibly gracious right now.
About what? I asked.
She froze, clearly not expecting that response.
The the gift money, of course. She whispered. If youre truly having financial trouble, Im willing to let it go, but you need to at least give me a heads-up.
I smiled faintly.
Brittany, I transferred 0-0,000, and you confirmed receipt.
Her face flickered.
When did I ever say I received it?
September 15th, a little after 2:47 p.m.
She blinked, her expression tightening.
Maybe you transferred it to the wrong person, Eliza. I genuinely didnt receive anything.
I didnt say anything. I just watched her.
My silence made her squirm. She let out a dry, nervous laugh. Dont look at me like that. Im not lying. Why don't you double-check? Did you send it to someone else?
I checked, I said. It was you.
Her smile vanished.
Well well, maybe its a system error. Venmo can sometimes have a delay
A three-month delay?
She had no answer.
I continued to hold her gaze.
She finally avoided my eyes and forced a casual tone: Fine, fine. Its just a thousand dollars. Its not worth destroying our working relationship over. If you really think you sent it, then lets just drop it. Ill consider it my loss.
With that, she turned and walked away.
I watched her retreating back, a cold satisfaction settling in my gut.
Her loss?
You took the money, denied it, and now youre trying to play the benevolent martyr?
During the morning meeting, I noticed a few colleagues giving me even stranger looks than before.
After the meeting, I headed to the break room for water and heard voices inside.
Did you hear about Eliza?
I did. A thousand dollars. She says she sent it; Brittany says she didnt get it.
Who do you believe?
Hard to say but Brittany doesnt seem like the type to lie about something so petty.
Right? Brittany is usually so generous, buying us all coffee and lunch sometimes.
And Eliza shes just so quiet. Its hard to get a read on her.
I stood by the doorway, gripping the stainless steel handle of the water pitcher. I didnt go in.
Hard to get a read on her?
What did that mean? Because I kept to myself, did that automatically make me a liar?
I turned back to my desk.
Just before closing time, the chat lit up again.
Brittany posted: I talked to Eliza today. She insists she sent the money, but I still haven't seen it. It must be some system glitch. Lets just move on. No more discussion, please.
The replies rolled in: Good call, Brittany, youre too big-hearted, Some things are just impossible to prove.
I stared at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I typed a few words, then deleted them.
Not the time.
I opened a private chat with Sarah, an older colleague in Admin.
Sarah, got a minute to chat?
Sarah was close to Brittany, but she hadnt said anything in the group chat yesterday.
And this morning, the way she looked at me it wasn't scrutiny; it was like she was trying to tell me something.
Sarah replied quickly: After work. Break room.
After work, I met her in the quiet break room. She was holding a mug of coffee.
Eliza, she glanced around, lowering her voice. That whole thing did you really send the money?
I did, I said. 0-0,000, Venmo, September 15th.
She was silent for a moment.
Do you have the record?
Yes.
Another stretch of silence.
I watched her expression and asked abruptly, Sarah, do you know something I dont?
The coffee mug in her hand shook slightly.
I
Tell me, I pressed.
She looked down, as if making a difficult decision.
Finally, she looked up and whispered, Eliza, I dont know all the details, but Brittany owes me money, too.
My heart skipped a beat.
When?
Last month, just before your wedding. She said she was dealing with a temporary cash flow problem. She borrowed $400.
Did she pay it back?
She offered a wry smile.
No. I mentioned it once, and she said, Im a little tight right now, maybe next month. I didnt feel comfortable pushing her again.
It clicked.
That was the reason for the hesitation in her eyes.
Sarah, I looked at her directly. If I need you to back me up, would you say something?
She hesitated, then nodded slightly.
Ill see how things develop.
I didnt push her.
I understood her position. In the office hierarchy, no one wanted to make enemies.
But now I knew one crucial thing.
Brittany didn't just owe me.
3.
The Slack chat was quiet for the next few days.
But the office atmosphere remained tense.
I could feel the faint, invisible currents of people whispering about me.
It was an isolating, uncomfortable feeling, like being watched by unseen eyes.
Friday afternoon, Brittany sent a group Venmo request.
Happy Weekend, grab yourself a coffee on me~
It was a small amount, perhaps fifty cents each.
The chat filled with replies: Thanks, Brittany! Youre the best! So generous!
I didnt accept the money.
It wasn't about the fifty cents.
It was the sight of her name, the false magnanimity, that made me sick.
That weekend, Owen and I went to the mall.
In the elevator, I bumped into another colleague, Veronica, from the Finance department.
We didnt usually interact much.
She saw me, paused, and then gave me a forced smile.
Eliza, shopping?
Hi, Veronica. You, too?
She nodded, glancing at Owen standing next to me.
This must be your husband. The one who got married last month?
Yes.
Oh, congratulations. She leaned in, lowering her voice. Eliza, about the Brittany thing. I heard.
My heart sank.
Veronica, that whole mess
I know, I know, she waved a hand dismissively. Im not here to judge you. Its just well, take it from me, dont take Brittany too seriously.
What do you mean?
She checked around the elevator, then moved closer.
She borrowed money from me, too. Five hundred dollars. Still hasnt paid it back. I mentioned it once, and she said, Are you in desperate need of it? If not, Ill pay you back next month. What could I say? I told her no, I wasn't desperate.
I just stared at her, absorbing this new information.
And that time we had the department dinner, Veronica continued. It was supposed to be AA. She claimed an emergency and left early, promising to send the money later. Never did.
How much was her share?
Sixty dollars.
I did the mental calculation quickly.
Sarah: $400. Veronica: $250 + $60 = $310. Plus my 0-0,000.
Total I know of: 0-0,710. I will hold the last person's debt for the later chapter to mirror the original plot structure.
This was only what I knew.
How many other people had she borrowed from and were too embarrassed to speak up?
Veronica, I said, looking at her. If I needed your help
What are you planning? she asked, suddenly alert.
To tell the truth. I said. I sent 0-0,000. She received it and confirmed it. Now shes denying it.
Veronica was silent for a moment.
Do you have proof?
I do.
Then why haven't you posted it?
The timing wasnt right.
She looked at me, her expression complex.
Eliza, think this through. Blowing this up won't be good for you, either.
I know.
In the office, sometimes its better to just take the loss and move on.
I know, I said. But this isnt about the money anymore.
She sighed.
Its your call.
On Monday, I noticed a distinct change in Brittanys behavior.
She stopped seeking me out for her faux-sympathetic talks. She stopped posting passive-aggressive messages in the main chat.
Instead, she started spreading gossip behind my back.
I heard it from Sarah.
Brittany is telling people youre too petty and high-maintenance for blowing a thousand dollars into a huge scene, Sarah whispered to me. She also said youve always been antisocial and never participate in team activities.
I let out a cold laugh.
Petty?
Antisocial?
She received the money and denied it, and now I was the problem?
What else did she say?
Sarah hesitated.
She said she said youre manipulative and two-faced. That you pretend to be quiet and reserved, but youre secretly calculating.
I tightened my grip on my pen.
Calculating.
Good.
I was about to respond when my phone buzzed.
A message from Brittany.
I opened it. It was a screenshot.
It was a message she had posted in another group chatone I wasnt a part of.
Eliza is seriously strange. She wont let go of this thousand-dollar thing. I told her it must be a system error, but she refuses to believe me. Some people are just like this: they look innocent, but theyre incredibly sneaky and hold a serious grudge.
Someone replied beneath: Yeah, you cant trust the quiet ones.
Another: Brittany, dont let her get to you.
I stared at the screenshot, my hand trembling.
Not from anger.
From a deep, chilling clarity.
Was this a power play? A warning?
I didnt reply.
I opened my photo album and looked at the two screenshots I'd saved.
The transfer record.
Her confirmation.
Was it enough?
No.
I wanted her defeat to be absolute.

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