On my thirtieth birthday, my mother-in-law raised a toast with the words: «To our silly girl from a poor family who lives off our money», and my husband started laughing loudly at that. Then my father stood up from the table and did something that made my mother-in-law freeze in place…

Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I didn’t want to worry you; you have enough on your plate. Will you manage financially?» «Don’t worry about us,» Mom put her hand on mine. «We have savings, and your father has already found a new job, though with a lower salary, but we won’t go under.»

I felt a pang of guilt; all these years, I lived in luxury, not thinking about how my parents were living, accepting expensive gifts from the Harringtons, traveling to resorts, wearing designer clothes, while Dad and Mom saved, set aside from every paycheck, worried about the future. «I can help,» I said resolutely. «Don’t even think about it,» Dad cut me off.

«We won’t take a penny from you.» «But why? It’s normal to help parents, normal to help with your own money, not your husband’s,» Dad was adamant. I wanted to argue, say that I had my own savings, though in fact there weren’t many, but at that moment the phone rang.

Kyle, asking if I forgot about the dress fitting for tomorrow’s event. Of course not, I lied. In fact, I had completely forgotten about that dress, chosen, of course, by Valerie, another designer masterpiece meant to showcase the Harrington family’s wealth. I had to hurry and head to the salon.

My parents stayed in the apartment; Dad needed to rest before tomorrow’s party. Valerie was waiting for me at the salon. She critically examined the dress hanging on a special hanger.

Navy blue, with a deep back neckline and a scattering of crystals along the hem. Finally, she snorted when she saw me. I thought you weren’t coming.

Sorry, I got caught up talking with my parents. Oh, they’re here, she pursed her lips as if she’d eaten something sour. I hope they’ve prepared for tomorrow’s event, bought appropriate clothes.

I felt anger boiling inside; my parents always look appropriate for the situation, I replied, trying to speak calmly. «Well, well,» Valerie hummed, «I remember at your wedding, your father was in a suit that went out of fashion twenty years ago.» I stayed silent; arguing with her was pointless.

Besides, we were in the salon full of other clients and consultants. The fitting went in a tense atmosphere. Valerie commented on every detail, every fold on the dress.

Need to take it in at the waist, she commanded the seamstress, and shorten the sleeves, and for God’s sake, do something about this paleness, that was to me. Book an urgent tanning session. When we left the salon, Valerie suddenly took me by the arm, a gesture that from the side might seem friendly, but was actually just a way to control my movements.

«Listen, Paula,» she began in the tone she usually used for particularly unpleasant conversations. «Tomorrow is a very important day; all our friends, Victor’s colleagues, business partners will be there. I ask you to keep an eye on your parents.» «In what sense?» I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

«In the direct sense; your father at the wedding allowed himself some statements that put us in an awkward position.» «I don’t want that to happen again; my father is a decent man, and he never allowed himself inappropriate statements,» I felt blood rushing to my face. «Oh, come on,» Valerie waved her hand, «all those talks about real values and sincere feelings; everyone knows their price, dear, and your family’s price, frankly, is low.»

At that moment, something clicked inside me; all the accumulated over eight years of marriage, all the grievances, all the humiliations, all the moments when I swallowed barbs for the sake of peace, all that suddenly rose from the depths of my soul and turned into cold, controlled rage. «You know what, Valerie,» I said quietly but firmly, «you’re right, everyone knows their price, and your family, with all your money and connections, isn’t worth a tenth of what mine is.» She froze with her mouth open.

In eight years, I had never allowed myself such audacity. «What did you say,» she finally squeezed out, «you heard perfectly well, and at tomorrow’s party, I’ll be with my parents, and if someone,» I emphasized the word, looking her straight in the eyes, «allows disrespectful treatment toward them, I won’t stay silent, don’t doubt it.» Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked to my car.

My hands were shaking, my heart pounding like crazy, but inside it was surprisingly calm. For the first time in a long time, I felt real, not a doll, not a decoration in the «Harrington Family» play, but a living person with my own dignity. In the evening, when Kyle came home, I realized that my mother-in-law had already complained to him; he burst into the apartment, slamming the door loudly.

«What do you think you’re doing,» he threw instead of a greeting. I was sitting in the kitchen with my parents; we were drinking tea and talking about the upcoming party. «Hello, Kyle,» I replied calmly, «what exactly is bothering you? You were rude to my mother.»

She called me in tears. I wasn’t rude; I just asked her to treat my parents respectfully. Kyle shifted his gaze to Dad and Mom, as if noticing their presence only now.

«Hello, Nicholas, Helen,» he said through gritted teeth. «Hello, Kyle,» Dad replied, «maybe sit down? Let’s discuss everything calmly.» Nothing to discuss.

Paula, a word, he nodded toward the living room. I followed him. As soon as we left the kitchen, he grabbed my arm.

«Are you out of your mind?» he hissed. «Tomorrow is an important day; all our acquaintances are coming, and you’re starting scandals with my mother.» I didn’t start a scandal.

Your mother insulted my family again. And I just let her know I won’t tolerate it anymore. What do you mean «insulted»? She just wanted everything to go perfectly tomorrow.

Perfectly for whom, Kyle? For your mother? For your father? What about me? This is my birthday after all, but somehow all decisions are made without my involvement. He let go of my arm and ran his hand through his hair, a gesture that appeared when he was nervous. «Paula, let’s not fight.

Tomorrow is an important day; we need to keep face.» «Face? Or mask?» it slipped out. «What do you mean?» I suddenly realized I was tired, tired of pretending, playing a role, being someone I’m not.

«Nothing,» I sighed, «let’s just get through tomorrow.» Kyle looked at me intently, as if trying to understand what was happening to me, but as usual, he didn’t dig deeper. «Great,» he said with relief.

«And please, keep your emotions under control tomorrow.» He kissed me on the cheek, a dry, formal kiss, and went to take a shower. And I returned to the kitchen to my parents.

«Is everything okay?» Mom asked with concern. «Yes, everything’s fine,» I smiled, trying to look carefree. Dad looked at me with his penetrating gaze.

«Paula, you know you can tell us if something’s wrong.» «I know, Dad,» just a small misunderstanding, it happens in every family. He nodded, but I saw he didn’t believe me.

Dad always sensed when I was lying. The rest of the evening was spent preparing for tomorrow. I helped Mom iron her party dress.

We spent a long time choosing what jewelry she should wear. Dad watched the news on TV, occasionally commenting on particularly resonant events. Kyle kept his distance, had dinner with us, exchanged a couple of obligatory phrases with my parents, and went to his office, citing urgent work.

That night, I couldn’t sleep for a long time, lying staring at the ceiling, thinking about how my life had changed in these eight years, how I myself had changed, from a confident, ambitious girl to a shadow, an appendage to the Harrington name. Kyle slept next to me, snoring quietly; in sleep, his face looked younger, more vulnerable. Sometimes in such moments, I remembered why I fell in love with him: his enthusiasm, his ability to dream, his way of seeing the world in bright colors; where did it all go, when did my beloved turn into another copy of his father, a cold, calculating businessman.

The morning of my anniversary started with bustle: hairdresser, makeup artist, manicurist; all these people were called to our apartment on Valerie’s orders. Mom, seeing this parade of professionals, just shook her head. «Paula, you’re beautiful without all this,» she said when we were alone for a minute.

«Thanks, Mom, but you know with the Harringtons, everything has to be top-notch.» «Yes, I know,» she sighed, «just don’t forget you’re not only a Harrington, but also a Sullivan.» Sullivan, my maiden name, which I had almost forgotten over these years.

Valerie always winced when she heard it. «So plain,» she said, «good thing now you’re a Harrington.» By four in the afternoon, I was fully ready: hair styled in a complex updo, makeup flawless, the new dress fit like a glove…