Unexpected Photos on the Big Screen

My father accidentally added me to a group chat called One Big Happy Family.

There were only three people in it: my father, my mother, and a stranger saved under the nickname Princess.

They were in the middle of a flurry of messages, eagerly planning a lavish birthday party for her. Tomorrow was her birthday.

And tomorrow was also my birthday, which they had consistently forgotten for ten consecutive years.

My mother wrote: The venue has to be absolutely magical. We want her to feel like a real princess.

My father sent a massive digital cash transfer: Money is no object. Just don't let your sister find out. I don't want her making a fuss and ruining the mood.

I silently took screenshots of the chat, preparing to wait for the perfect moment to tear their happy little facade to pieces.

Just then, my younger brother, Gary, a straight-A student and the pride of our family, sent me a private message. It was a screenshot of his own chat with our father.

Dad, is Gilly's surprise party all set up? You promised me, this is the last time we lie to her.

Staring at the screenshot Gary sent, a cold dread seeped into my bones.

A surprise?

The last time they would lie to me?

Every single year on my birthday, they brushed me off with the exact same tired excuses.

"Gilly, something urgent came up at the office."

"Gilly, your mother booked a spa day with her friends. Just order yourself some takeout, okay?"

This year, they didn't even bother with the excuses. They had simply replaced me with a brand-new daughter.

I tossed my phone onto the bed, a suffocating weight pressing down on my chest.

Garys name popped up on my screen again: Gilly, don't overthink it. Mom and Dad...

I cut him off with two words: I get it.

Overthink?

How could I possibly misinterpret this?

The proof was laid out right in front of me. This lavish birthday party for "Princess" was the very "surprise" they were using to justify their lies.

I, their flesh-and-blood daughter, was nothing more than a background prop, a shadow meant to highlight the dazzling happiness of another girl.

From the living room, I heard my mother's hushed, excited voice on the phone.

"Yes, we want the pink balloons. The largest, glossiest ones you have."

"Stella loves pink. We must make sure everything is perfect for her."

Stella.

So that was her name: Stella.

I opened my social media app and searched for the name. It didn't take long to find her. Her profile picture was a polished, professional portrait, and her feed was filled with glamorous photos of her travels all over the world.

Her most recent post was a picture of her standing between two middle-aged people. The background was our living room.

The two people were my parents.

In the photo, they smiled with a warmth and tenderness I had never once seen on their faces. My mother was affectionately linking arms with Stella, while my father stood beside them, his eyes full of pure adoration.

The caption read: Thank you to my wonderful Aunt and Uncle! I can't wait for the party tomorrow!

My mother had commented below: Silly girl, there's no need to be formal with us.

My father had left a heart emoji.

What a beautiful "happy family."

I saved the photo to my private, encrypted vault alongside the group chat screenshots.

These would be the "surprises" I presented to them tomorrow.

At dinner, my mother ladled a bowl of hot chicken soup, setting it down in front of me with an eager smile.

"Gilly, drink up. I simmered this soup for hours just for you."

Staring at the greasy broth, a wave of intense nausea hit the back of my throat.

"Is this to build up my energy for Stella's birthday party tomorrow?" I asked, my voice light and conversational.

My mother's smile instantly froze on her face.

She darted a panicked look at my father, whose expression darkened immediately. "What nonsense are you talking about? Who on earth is Stella?"

"Oh? Has your memory started to fail you, Dad?"

I pulled out my phone and tapped open the saved photo. "This girl right here. Isn't she your precious princess?"

My father's face turned a violent shade of grey.

My mother scrambled to smooth things over. "Gilly, you've got it all wrong. She's the daughter of an incredibly important client of your father's. We're just helping them organize her celebration."

"An important client's daughter?" I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "So important that you needed to create a private group chat, save her as 'Princess,' and send her massive cash transfers?"

"So important that you can completely ignore your own daughter's birthday?"

In an instant, the dining room fell so quiet that only our breathing could be heard.

Gary rushed out of his room, grabbing my arm. "Gilly, please, just stop talking!"

I shook his hand off. "Why? Are you going to help them keep up the lie, too?"

Garys face drained of color, his lips parting, but he couldn't find a single word to say.

The next day, on my birthday, the house was entirely empty.

On the kitchen counter lay a hundred-dollar bill and a scrap of paper in my mother's elegant handwriting: Gilly, left some money for you on the counter. Buy yourself something nice to eat.

Ten years of the exact same neglect, down to the very last dollar.

I crumpled the bill into a tight ball and threw it into the trash can.

After our argument last night, they didn't even bother pretending anymore.

Before they left, I had heard my mother gushing on the phone. "The venue is fully set up! It looks like an absolute fairytale!"

My father was busy barking instructions on the balcony. "Make sure you pack that bottle of '82 Lafite. We want to make sure Stella has the time of her life today."

And I was left behind, wandering through my own home like a ghost.

Gary had left early as well. Before he walked out the door, he had looked at me with a complicated, aching expression.

"Gilly, no matter what you see today, please trust me."

Trust him?

Trust that he was simply a co-conspirator in this cruel game?

I offered a cold, silent smirk, turning away.

Around noon, a moving truck pulled up outside. Two delivery workers carried a massive, velvet-lined box up the steps, decorated with an obnoxious pink bow.

Standing by the window, I realized that in their eyes, I was worth less than a parcel.

My mother ran down the steps to sign for it, her face glowing with excitement. She directed the workers with frantic hand gestures, terrified they might scratch the contents.

I recognized the gold emblem on the box. It was a limited-edition grand piano released just last month, carrying a price tag of six figures.

Meanwhile, my own piano sat in the corner of my room, its keys yellowed with ten years of use, its tuning long gone.

I had tried to gently drop hints to my mother about it before, but she had always brushed me off. It still plays fine, Gilly. We have too many expenses to worry about right now.

It wasn't that the expenses were too high. It was just that I wasn't worth the cost.

The very last ember of hope in my heart died.

In the afternoon, I changed into a sharp, tailored black dress.

I applied my makeup meticulously, concealing the exhaustion under my eyes. I refused to let them see me break down. I would draw the line between us with absolute pride.

I had overheard the venue's address during my mother's phone call yesterday.

They had rented out the most exclusive grand ballroom in the city.

I called a cab. Along the way, the driver kept glancing at the road ahead, whistling. "Big day today, huh, kid? The entire avenue ahead is blocked off. Apparently, some wealthy family is throwing a massive birthday party for their daughter. The scale is incredible."

I curved my lips slightly, remaining silent.

Yes, the scale was incredible.

So grand that it required ten years of my quiet misery to serve as its prelude.

A plush red carpet stretched out from the ballroom entrance, lined on both sides with towering arrangements of pink roses.

The welcome sign at the entrance read: Happy Birthday to our precious Princess.

And the signature at the bottom: With all our love, Mom and Dad.

The words burned my eyes.

I pulled out my phone and sent Gary a text: I've arrived to claim your surprise.

Taking a deep breath, I adjusted my shoulders, stepped onto my heels, and walked into the ballroom.

The room was filled with the clinking of crystal glasses and soft laughter.

My parents were standing in the center of the crowd, looking radiant as they greeted their high-society guests.

And right beside them stood a girl in a stunning, custom-made pink gown.

Stella.

She looked like a proud peacock, basking in the adoration and blessings of everyone in the room.

My mother stepped forward, gently placing a delicate diamond tiara onto Stellas head. "Our Stella is the most beautiful princess in the world today."

My father handed her a velvet jewelry box, revealing a sparkling diamond necklace.

"Do you like it? I had it custom-designed just for you."

Stella smiled sweetly, her eyes shining. "Thank you, Uncle, Auntie. You treat me so wonderfully."

A chorus of admiring murmurs rippled through the guests.

"Gavin, she might be your goddaughter, but you treat her better than a biological child!"

"Honestly, we're all put to shame by this level of generosity."

"If you treat your goddaughter this well, Gavin, your own daughter's birthday party must be legendary. You'd probably pluck the stars from the sky for her!"

My parents laughed warmly, waving their hands in polite dismissal. "Of course, of course, she deserves nothing less."

No one noticed me standing in the shadowed corner of the room.

I raised my phone, recording every single second of their happy display.

Then, I smoothed down the fabric of my black dress, picked up a glass of champagne, and walked slowly toward them.

The laughter and music around me seemed to fade into a dull hum. In my vision, there was only that picture-perfect family of three.

My father raised his glass, projecting his voice over the microphone. "Thank you all for joining us today to celebrate our princess..."

"Our princess?" I repeated, my voice cutting through the air like a knife.

The smiles on my parents' faces instantly froze.

My mother reacted first, stepping forward to grab my hand, but I cleanly stepped out of her reach.

"Gilly? What are you doing here?" Her voice carried a sharp tremor. "Come, let me introduce you. This is..."

"This is Stella, your precious princess, correct?" I interrupted, my gaze locking onto the girl in the pink gown.

The smile vanished from Stellas face. She looked at me, bewildered, a flash of distress crossing her features as she turned to my parents for help.

"Who is this?" a guest whispered in confusion.

My father's face turned a violent shade of red. He stepped forward, his voice a low, warning hiss. "Gillian! Stop making a scene! Go home immediately!"

"Making a scene?" I let out a cold laugh. "Dad, have you forgotten what day it is?"

"Today is also the birthday of your actual, biological daughter. My birthday."

I pronounced each word with absolute, freezing clarity.

The room erupted into a flurry of whispers.

The guests' eyes darted back and forth between my parents and me, their expressions alive with shock.

"So she's the real daughter... then why is..."

"Unbelievable. Ignoring your own daughter's birthday to throw a massive party for an outsider?"

"What is Gavin thinking? I don't understand this at all."

The murmurs drifted into my parents' ears, and their expressions grew frantic.

My mother's lips trembled violently.

My father's panic quickly twisted into sheer, defensive rage.

"Enough!" He slammed his hand down on a nearby table, rattling the glasses. "Did you show up today just to ruin this?"

"Ruin this?" I raised my phone, playing the video I had just recorded. "Dad, who is the one ruining things here? Who is the one pretending to prepare a surprise for me, while placing a tiara on another girl's head?"

On the screen, my mother's gentle voice echoed clearly through the silent ballroom.

Our Stella is the most beautiful princess in the world today.

The words repeated over the speaker, sounding incredibly mocking in the dead silence.

My mother's face went completely pale.

"And what about this?" I swiped to the family photo I had saved. "The daughter of an 'important client' who somehow became your precious princess?"

I turned the screen toward the guests, letting everyone see the photo and my mother's affectionate comments.

The expressions in the crowd grew increasingly colorful.

My father was shaking with rage, pointing a finger at me as he struggled to speak. "Gillian... you..."

"What about me?" I met his gaze, my eyes burning with hot tears, though my voice remained steady and cold. "I just wanted to ask you face-to-face: does raising a brand-new daughter feel much better than raising your old one?"

"I just want to know what I did so wrong that you had to humiliate and abandon me like this!"

My voice rose, carrying the weight of ten years of neglected birthdays and silent tears.

Stella's face went completely pale. She clutched my mother's sleeve, whispering, "Auntie, this..."

My mother shook her off, staring at me, her eyes brimming with a sudden, desperate regret.

"Gilly, it's not what you think. It's really not what you think!"

"Then what is it?" I demanded, stepping closer. "Tell me!"

Just then, the grand doors of the ballroom were flung open.

Gary rushed in, his face ghostly pale as he took in the chaotic, screaming scene. He ran to me and grabbed my arms, his voice shaking violently.

"Gilly, please, let me explain!"

"Enough! I don't want to hear another single lie from any of you!"

I tried to wrench myself free. I had achieved my goal. I wanted everyone to see the true face of my perfect parents.

I raised my phone, ready to project the screenshots onto the giant screen behind them.

"Dad, Mom, it's time for this play to end!"

Just as my finger hovered over the button.

Gary lunged forward, ripping the phone from my hand and clutching it tightly to his chest.

"Gilly! I beg you! Just give me five minutes! Only five minutes!"