No More Cheap Birthday Cupcakes Chapter 1

On my birthday, my boyfriend bought me a cheap pack of grocery-store cupcakes and a single wax candle.

He told me birthday cakes were nothing but a capitalist marketing trap, a distraction from our real goal: saving every penny for a down payment on a house.

I was hurt, but I swallowed my disappointment and agreed.

Then, on the evening of my birthday, my best friend breezed through our front door. She bypassed the empty chair and squeezed herself right onto the sofa between us, wrapping her arms around mine and preening.

"Oh my god, Dylan is literally the most amazing guy," Sally cooed, resting her head on his shoulder. "He just put down eight thousand dollars to secure the lease on my new apartment downtown. I got to sleep in until nine this morning. It was absolute heaven!"

My mouth went dry.

To make it to my office on time, I had to wake up at five in the morning, ride an electric scooter for twenty minutes in the freezing cold, and transfer through three different subway lines. I did it because Dylan insisted that living this far out in the Boston suburbs was the only way to save two thousand a year on rent.

Buzz.

I looked down at the screen of my phone.

[Card ending in 8744: Wire transfer of $400,000 to Sally completed. Remaining balance: $400,000.]

Dylan had just transferred the savings we had built together over ten years—our future home—directly to my best friend.

I looked up, my chest tightening.

Dylan was casually peeling a shrimp, dropping the pink meat directly into Sally’s bowl. His voice was entirely conversational. "Oh, that. It's to help fund her grad school. We can always buy a house later, Alice. Sally won't have an income while she’s getting her master’s degree. Actually, I was thinking you might want to chip in a bit, too?"

I looked down at my faded, worn-out flannel pajamas. Ten years of devotion, of sacrificing my own comfort, suddenly felt like a joke.

"Sure," I said, my voice completely flat. "I’ll go to the bank right now and pull out everything left in the account."

I would empty the account, and in doing so, I would erase him from my future.

* * *

"See? I told you Alice is reasonable. She’d never make a fuss over something like this. You owe me twenty bucks," Dylan said, looking at Sally with an affectionate, indulgent smile. He reached out and playfully pinched her nose.

Sally pouted, pretending to be annoyed, and grabbed his shoulder, giving it a playful, teasing bite.

"Fine, fine. I admit I underestimated Alice," Sally said, though her eyes remained locked on him. "I just know how badly she wanted that house." She turned to me, her voice dripping with sweet concern. "I didn't hurt him too bad, did I, Alice? I know how protective you get over your man."

They both looked at me, expecting the usual flash of anger.

But I simply kept eating my dinner, chewing slowly.

Seeing that I wasn’t reacting, the smug satisfaction on Dylan’s face faltered. A shadow of disappointment crossed his eyes, and he cleared his throat.

"I’m glad you’re finally learning to be mature, Alice," he said, adjusting his collar. "I was worried you’d make a scene like you did last time. It’s nice to see you’re finally growing up."

The "last time" he was referring to was our college reunion. During a game of Truth or Dare, he and Sally had been dared to kiss through a thin plastic card. I had stood up, furious, calling out the complete lack of boundaries. Dylan had shut me down in front of everyone, calling me dramatic, insecure, and a psycho. I had cried until my eyes were swollen, and in the end, I was the one who begged for his forgiveness.

But sitting here now, I realized I felt nothing. No anger, no jealousy. The food in front of me was far more interesting than he was.

Before I could answer, Sally gasped. She shifted in her seat, accidentally knocking her elbow against the small ceramic figurine on the edge of the table.

It fell. The small porcelain boy and girl, sculpted to look like they were embracing, snapped cleanly in two on the hardwood floor.

Dylan’s hands shot out to steady Sally, his eyes wide with concern. He didn't even look at the floor. "Are you okay?" he asked her, before turning a defensive glare toward me. "Alice, don't get mad. It was an accident. I’ll buy you another one."

That figurine was the very first gift Dylan had ever given me, back when we first made our relationship official.

"No need," I said quietly. "Once something breaks, it breaks."

If I didn't want the man anymore, why would I care about a piece of painted clay?

Dylan opened his mouth to say something, but Sally let out a soft groan, rubbing her lower back. "Oh, my back is so stiff from moving boxes all day."

Without a second thought, Dylan turned his back on me and began gently massaging her shoulders.

I wiped my mouth with a napkin, stood up, and slipped into my coat. "Enjoy your dinner. I'm going to the bank."

As I stepped into the hallway to put on my boots, Dylan’s hesitant voice drifted over. "Hey... we haven't even blown out the candle yet. Make a wish before you go."

I didn't look back. There was no birthday cake. Just cheap, dry cupcakes and a single candle bought from a convenience store. He had claimed real cakes were a capitalist trap, yet every year on Sally's birthday, he spent hundreds of dollars ordering custom, multi-tiered artisanal creations from the best bakeries in the city.

I shut the door behind me.

The bitter, freezing winter air hit my face, making my eyes water. As I walked past the dumpster at the end of the block, I pulled the silver ring off my left hand.

It was a cheap, ten-dollar ring he’d bought off Amazon years ago, but I had treated it like a priceless heirloom. I tossed it into the trash.

I took a cab to the bank and arrived just minutes before the lobby closed. I withdrew every single cent of my portion of our shared savings, opened a brand-new private account, and deposited the money there.

When I was done, I drove to the Prudential Center. I walked straight into a luxury French boutique patisserie, bought the most expensive, beautifully frosted champagne-berry cake in the display, and took myself to a bustling hot pot restaurant downtown.

When the staff gathered around my table with a glowing sign, singing "Happy Birthday," I didn't feel embarrassed. I smiled, blew out the sparkler, and carved out the largest, sweetest slice for myself.

By the time I got back to the apartment, my phone was buzzing with a FaceTime call from Dylan.

"Hey," he said, the camera shaking as he walked around Sally's apartment. "Sally mentioned seeing some sketchy guy loitering near her building earlier. She’s terrified to be alone, so I’m going to crash on her couch tonight to make sure she's safe."

Sally popped into the frame, her arms looped casually around his neck. She gave a playful wink. "Alice, you're my savior! Let me borrow your boyfriend for just one night to protect a damsel in distress!"

She knew I had never been able to say no to her. We had been best friends for seven years.

Dylan adjusted his camera, briefly looking at my screen. "Make sure you lock the deadbolt. Don't fall asleep with the stove on."

Sally patted his cheek. "Oh, don't worry about her. Our Alice is the toughest girl I know."

But I wasn't tough.

When we first moved to this isolated suburb, I had been followed home from the subway station twice. I had called Dylan, sobbing and hyperventilating in the dark. He had told me I was overreacting, that I was just trying to create drama. Eventually, I bought pepper spray and a small taser to carry in my purse, convincing myself that he was just a typical, unobservant guy who didn't know how to handle fear.

He wasn't incapable of worry. He was just incapable of worrying about me.

I swallowed the sudden, sharp lump in my throat and forced a polite smile. "You're right. I'm tough. Enjoy your night."

Before they could respond, I hung up.

I walked to the closet and began gathering every single gift Dylan had ever given me. A five-dollar red string bracelet from a street vendor. A plastic phone case he got for free with a promotion. A pair of cheap, knockoff wireless earbuds.

He had always told me I was a "sensible girl" who didn't care about material luxuries, that we needed to save for our future. Yet for Sally’s birthdays, he bought Van Cleef & Arpels bracelets, luxury La Mer skincare sets, and the newest, most expensive iPhone.

When I had confronted him about it, he had cupped my face and looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. "Babe, I only buy her those things to make you look good. If your boyfriend is generous to your best friend, it makes you look high-class. Since I spent so much of my personal cash on her, maybe you could help me out with rent this month?"

I threw every single one of his cheap trinkets into a heavy black trash bag.

Then, I dialed my father’s number.

"Dad," I said when he picked up. "The family matchmaking setup you mentioned... I’m ready to come back to New York and meet him."