I was retrieving the guest plates from the shelf when I overheard a snippet of conversation in the corridor. Nina, my cousin, was whispering to Artyom—but clearly enough:

“She works at the bank; she gets bonuses, awards… They say Marina has already paid for everything. Can you imagine what kind of celebration it will be?”

Artyom yawned and snorted:

“But why should she spend money if she lives alone? Let her splurge. We want to have fun too.”

They didn’t even notice my presence—apparently, they were confident they were out of my hearing range. But I heard every word. It was now clear: they hadn’t just come over for tea again. Their aim was obvious—to force me into financing Grandma’s anniversary at an expensive restaurant. They had already decided that I had “organized everything long ago” and even managed to pay the deposit in advance.

Suppressing my emotions, I invited everyone into the living room and placed plates of treats in front of them. Aunt Natasha, always known for her bluntness, surveyed my interior and said with a hint of irony:

“Marina, your place is so cozy! It’s clear you don’t skimp on your home. By the way, we’ve been thinking… Aren’t you the perfect candidate to organize Grandma’s anniversary?”

Her voice was soft, but every word carried an undercurrent of ridicule. Uncle Yura, usually more straightforward, added:

“Who else but you? Your mortgage is almost paid off, and work is going well. Grandma deserves a proper celebration, and she doesn’t want to trouble herself—she’s over eighty, after all.”

I inwardly smirked. In reality, my mortgage was far from being paid off, and those work bonuses had to be practically begged for. But they didn’t care—in their eyes, I was always the endless source of funds.

This time they came as an entire delegation: Nina, Artyom, Aunt Natasha, Uncle Yura, and a couple of distant relatives. Once seated at my table, they began showing pictures of luxurious restaurants, discussing menus and prices.

“Marina, look, here’s a buffet table by the chef!” Nina exclaimed excitedly—a woman in her thirties with impeccable makeup and the latest iPhone. “Can you imagine the content we could create for social media? We’ll all look glamorous, and we’ll put Grandma right at the center…”

I interrupted her:

“Hold on. Who’s going to pay? These aren’t small amounts.”

Uncle Yura instantly put on a genial smile:

“We’re family! Everyone knows you’re not stingy. Besides, you’re so practical: you find great deals and know where to save. So handle it, and we’ll support you morally.”

Recalling how these same people had ignored my pleas for help when I scrimped and saved for my apartment’s down payment, I sighed deeply. Back then, no one had even offered a word of support. And now they expected a “fancier” restaurant.

Aunt Natasha paused dramatically:

“Marina, don’t you feel for Grandma? Maybe this is one of the last family celebrations…”

I bit my lip. Of course, Grandma deserved a wonderful celebration. But why should I bear the entire financial burden? Especially when I knew that afterward, they would gossip behind my back: “Marina could have spent more…”

“Let’s do it this way,” I proposed calmly. “I’m willing to cover part of the expenses. But you all must chip in, according to what you can afford. I’m not going to foot the bill alone.”

The room fell silent. Nina was the first to break the quiet:

“Well… right now all my money’s tied up for a vacation. I’ve long dreamed of the sea.”

Artyom shrugged:

“My car needs repairs. I don’t have extra cash.”

Uncle Yura mumbled:

“My aunt and I are in debt… Times are tough. If you had paid everything in advance, it would have been so much easier.”

As usual. They were convinced that I was just “bargaining,” when in fact the matter was principled. I stood up, pretended to go pour more tea, and quietly said:

“Fine. I’ll figure something out. Of course, we’ll throw a top-notch celebration for Grandma.”

These words elicited delight from Aunt Natasha, who immediately clapped her hands:

“Smart girl! So we can count on you.”

I turned my back on her, hiding my smile: “Count on me? Let’s see how you understand that.” I knew very well that if I acquiesced, they’d only become more convinced they could exploit me further. So, once the relatives left my house, I called my old friend Oleg, a manager at a renowned restaurant.

“Oleg,” I began, “I need your help. Get ready for a family comedy with an unexpected ending.”

Oleg laughed:

“Got it. It’ll be a splendid celebration with an interesting twist.”

We discussed all the details. I booked the hall and paid the deposit that I could afford without hurting my budget. At the same time, I asked Oleg to accommodate all the “exquisite” requests of my relatives: expensive champagne, exclusive appetizers, and a dramatic presentation of the dishes. They loved luxury, so let them have it in full swing.

The day of the anniversary arrived. The relatives, like peacocks, showed up at the restaurant in their finest attire. Grandma Antonina, elegant and slightly nervous, had brought along an old friend of hers, whom no one had known about in advance. But who would refuse such a small pleasure?

Everyone was convinced that everything had already been paid for. Someone even whispered to me as we walked by:

“Marina, as always, you’re on top of it! Looks like you really put your heart into it.”

We were greeted by polite waiters and shown to a private room. Tables overflowed with appetizers, floral arrangements decorated every corner, and live music created a festive atmosphere. Nina, in a sparkling dress, immediately pulled out her phone and began recording stories.

“Girls, look at this splendor! It’s all for our Grandma!”

Aunt Natasha practically glowed with pride, imagining herself as the heroine of this story to be recounted to her friends. Meanwhile, Uncle Yura approached a bottle of expensive champagne and asked:

“Could we have a couple of extra bottles for our table?”

“Of course,” I replied with a smile. “But don’t forget to pay later.”

“What?” he froze, surprised. “But… isn’t that included?”

“Don’t worry, Yura,” Aunt Natasha reassured him. “Marina took care of everything. Or maybe she has a corporate discount. We all know how she organizes things.”

I only shrugged, keeping a mysterious expression on my face:

“Don’t worry, we’ll settle it after the evening.”

The relatives continued to enjoy themselves, savoring every moment. Photos flew onto social media, glasses clinked, and loud toasts filled the air. Everyone was convinced that their beloved “sponsor” had once again taken care of everything.

When the main course was served, and some had already moved on to stronger drinks, I noticed Nina quietly whispering with Artyom. He, frowning, began scrutinizing the menu. It seemed they were starting to suspect that the evening might turn into an unpleasant surprise.

A sudden bang reverberated as, after the cake, Oleg entered the room in an impeccable suit. Approaching our table, he announced loudly:

“Dear guests, I hope you enjoyed our service! We are now preparing the final bill. Payment can be made in cash or by card.”

Nina nearly dropped her phone. Artyom spilled a drop of wine on the tablecloth. Aunt Natasha lost her smile, and Uncle Yura lowered his eyes.

“Wait,” the latter protested. “Didn’t Marina settle everything in advance?”

Oleg nodded courteously in my direction:

“Marina paid the deposit for the hall. The rest will be determined by the number of guests and the dishes ordered.”

Aunt Natasha tried to save the situation:

“But Marina, you said you’d handle it all…”

“I did,” I replied calmly. “I arranged an excellent venue and service. But remember, I proposed that we split the expenses. You then claimed you didn’t have any money. If you still don’t, you’ll have to find a way to pay.”

Uncle Yura couldn’t hold back:

“How can that be?! You deceived us! We were counting on you!”

“On me?” I asked. “I was counting on your honesty. But every time it came to shared expenses, you found a thousand reasons why you couldn’t contribute. Just like before, when you’d borrow money ‘until payday’ and never pay it back.”

Nina blushed and tried to defend herself:

“Oh, come on, Marina, you have a good salary. Don’t be so stingy. It’s Grandma’s anniversary, after all!”

I raised an eyebrow:

“Stingy? Funny. And what do you call those who constantly borrow money and never return it? Or those who use others’ things and then return them broken?”

Artyom began nervously tallying in his head how much the chosen dishes would cost. His face turned grim. Aunt Natasha covered her mouth with a napkin, pretending that the exquisite dish had suddenly struck her, though in reality, she was clearly looking for an escape.

“Maybe,” she said in a thin voice, “we could come to some compromise? For instance, splitting the sum among everyone?”

“Of course,” I agreed. “That’s exactly what I proposed from the start. Everyone pays for what they ordered. You can no longer pretend that I’m the one who must shoulder everything.”

Oleg, standing nearby, added:

“By the way, the final amount might increase if someone wants to extend the evening or order additional drinks. So I suggest you all think ahead.”

Aunt Natasha made a pained face, and Artyom mumbled something incoherent. But it was already too late—their game was over. Now they had to face reality, where not everything could be pinned on someone else.

“Marina, but we’re family; you can’t do that…” Aunt Natasha tried to interject in a soft, almost plaintive tone.

“You can, if family forgets to respect my interests,” I replied calmly. “Or do you really think I’m your personal wallet?”

Meanwhile, the waiters handed over a folder containing the bill and carefully placed it on the table. All eyes immediately turned to it, as if it were a document ready to blow up our already tense atmosphere. I slowly took the folder in my hands:

“So, after my deposit, the remaining amount is quite substantial. But there are many guests here, so let’s split the expenses. Grandma and her friend are my gift; the rest is to be divided among everyone.”

Nina gasped, her vividly made-up lips twisting into a grimace that resembled a snarl. Artyom started nervously crumpling his napkin, losing all his usual confidence. Uncle Yura, his haughty tone evaporated like smoke, began to bargain:

“Listen, Marina, you understand that my card has a limit. Maybe you could cover at least part of it, and I’ll pay you back later?”

I smirked:

“Pay me back? Like last time, when you ‘borrowed for a week’ and the debt has been hanging for over a year? Thanks, but no.”

Aunt Natasha tried to regain control of the situation:

“We could… maybe do it later…”

“‘Maybe later’ isn’t working anymore,” I interrupted decisively. “You all chose the restaurant and ordered expensive dishes yourselves. Now pay for your decisions.”

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the sounds from the adjacent room: clinking plates and rustling table settings. The relatives froze, as if caught off guard. One of the distant relatives stepped aside, hurriedly checking his phone or rifling through his wallet. Their faces revealed mixed emotions—from surprise to irritation.

At that moment, Grandma Antonina, who had been watching the scene with quiet sadness, decided to intervene. She coughed softly, drawing everyone’s attention:

“Children, don’t quarrel… Marina, thank you for such an evening. And please, don’t be angry with her. She’s a good person, and if you wanted a celebration, then do pay for it.”

Her voice carried the weariness of someone who had long known where all this might lead, yet preferred not to interfere. I leaned toward her and gently touched her hand:

“Don’t worry, Grandma. This celebration was for you. It’s a pity things turned out this way, but sometimes you have to stand up for yourself—even against your own family.”

Grandma nodded, and understanding shone in her eyes. Perhaps she had always suspected how I was being used, but now the situation was all too clear.

Eventually, the relatives began to act: someone swiped their card multiple times, another dashed off to an ATM for cash. Nina’s usually photogenic face contorted with anger—now she clearly wasn’t planning to post any more stories about having a good time, and instead was probably imagining how she’d recount this “shameful evening” to everyone.

When the final payment was made and the waiters thanked us for our visit, I felt an incredible lightness—as if a huge stone that had weighed on my shoulders for years had finally disappeared. Yes, family unity had not been achieved that night, but I had drawn a clear line in the sand.

The relatives silently dispersed: Aunt Natasha was the first to dash out of the hall, barely holding back tears as she disappeared into a taxi. Uncle Yura walked away, frowning and muttering something about “betrayal.” Artyom, usually so composed, now literally seethed with anger, yet chose to remain silent. Nina, catching up with them, kept hissing:

“How could she set us up like that? It’s shameful!”

I was left alone on the restaurant’s stoop, watching as Grandma Antonina, accompanied by her friend, slowly made her way toward me. Her face expressed both sorrow and gratitude.

“Thank you, my dear,” she said, taking my hand. “Of course, it ended in a scandal, but what a beautiful celebration it was. Perhaps now they’ll finally understand that family isn’t just about money, but about mutual respect.”

I embraced her tightly:

“Exactly, Grandma. Maybe one day they’ll realize that. Or maybe not. But I won’t let them use me anymore.”

We stepped outside, where the evening city enveloped us with its noise and lights. Inside, conflicting emotions battled within me: bitterness over shattered expectations and relief at having finally set my boundaries. Now I knew for sure: kindness should never be mistaken for weakness. If the family wanted a celebration, they’d better learn to appreciate those who create it rather than demand it thoughtlessly.