All I wanted was a quiet, magical dinner to celebrate our engagement—just close family and a moment that felt like ours. For an hour, it was perfect. Then Nolan arrived.
My stepbrother is a master of stealing attention: hospital dramas on holidays, dark revelations at family reunions. This time, he brought his pregnant wife and a booming voice that turned heads. Caleb gently squeezed my hand. “Let it go,” he whispered.
But Nolan couldn’t help himself. He clinked a glass and announced the gender of their baby. Cheers, toasts, blue desserts—our engagement vanished under his impromptu reveal. No one asked about my ring. Caleb and I sat in silence.
When the $823 bill arrived, we quietly paid our part and walked out. No scene. Nolan called, furious. “You embarrassed me!” I replied, “No—you embarrassed yourself.”
A week later, a box came. Inside: a “Cool Aunt” onesie and a receipt. No note. No apology. Just distance.
Our wedding is six months away. The guest list is short. Nolan isn’t on it. He already had his moment.
