They Planned A Party In My Home Without Me Chapter 10

They Planned A Party In My Home Without Me Chapter 10

The following Independence Day, my new apartment in Riverton was finally set up.

My coworkers said they wanted to come over for a housewarming, so I ordered everything I needed for a big one-pot dinner.

Someone asked me:

“Should we bring drinks?”

“Just bring whatever you like to drink.”

That evening, everyone washed vegetables, set out the dishes, and cleared the table together.

A woman who’d recently joined the department suddenly asked if she could bring a friend.

As soon as she asked, she quickly added:

“If that’s too many people, never mind. I don’t want to make extra work for you.”

I counted the chairs.

“Sure.”

“There’s a folding chair on the balcony. I’ll get it.”

One of my coworkers stopped me.

“You stay there. I’ll get it.”

In that moment, I remembered last year’s Independence Day.

It had been a table too.

There had been one person too many then, too.

But this time, no one acted as if I were the obvious one who should leave.

Halfway through dinner, three holiday messages lit up my phone.

Ryan said he’d moved to another state.

Tyler said it was the first time he’d cooked for himself on Independence Day, and he’d nearly burned the pot

dry.

Ethan sent only four words.

[How have you been?]

I didn’t reply.

I occasionally heard about them from mutual friends.

Mia gradually lost touch with the three guys.

No one had a dramatic falling-out.

There was simply no one left to handle every problem for her, and she found a new circle of friends.

Ethan never got married.

Even Ryan and Tyler stopped talking about their group lasting forever.

It turned out that for many people, forever only lasted because someone kept working to hold it together.

When dinner ended, everyone rushed to clear the table.

Someone put the last rib in my bowl.

“You did the most work cooking. This one’s yours.”

I looked down and took a bite.

It was cold, but still delicious.

People came and went around the dinner table.

There might always be fewer chairs than people who wanted a seat.

But the people who truly cared about you would never sit around discussing how to make you leave.

They would stand up and make room for you.

And I would never again be the person who could be sent away from someone else’s celebration whenever it

was convenient.