There are certain small things in a friendship that feel like unspoken agreements: a shared song, a favorite movie, or, in my case, a beloved dessert. For as long as I can remember, crème brûlée has been my ultimate comfort food. My best friend, Rachel, knew this better than anyone. It became a running joke between us—I’d scan every restaurant menu for it, and she’d always tease me for “predictable taste.” But whenever a server brought out two spoons, it was always understood one was for me.
That’s why, on the night of my birthday dinner, what happened at the table felt less like a harmless slip and more like a small, sharp betrayal.
The Dessert Dilemma
Rachel had organized everything—reservations at my favorite French bistro, a cozy corner table, even invited a few close friends. Dinner was delicious, conversation easy and familiar. But as the plates were cleared, the moment I’d been waiting for arrived: the dessert menu.
I waited, half-smiling, expecting Rachel to nudge me and say, “Ready for your crème brûlée?” Instead, she quickly flagged down the waiter. “We’ll have one chocolate lava cake,” she said, “and… actually, make that two. One for me, one to share.” She never glanced at me or asked what I wanted. A minute later, the waiter returned to say they were out of chocolate lava cake. Rachel shrugged, then pointed at the menu. “Okay, just the crème brûlée for me.”
For her. Not for us. Not even a shared order. My heart sank. I tried to brush it off—“Maybe she forgot,” I thought, or “She’s just caught up in the moment.” But when the dessert arrived, Rachel tucked in without hesitation, chatting happily, never noticing my disappointment.
When the Small Things Feel Big
It was such a minor thing, but as I watched her break the caramelized sugar, it felt like more than just a dessert. I realized how much I’d come to count on those little rituals—how they’d become part of my story with Rachel, and maybe how I’d started to expect small signs of being seen.
After dinner, as we said our goodbyes, Rachel hugged me tight. “Best birthday ever, right?” I nodded, forcing a smile, but the truth was, I felt oddly invisible.
The Conversation That Needed to Happen
A few days later, I texted Rachel, half-joking, half-serious: “Next time, crème brûlée is on me, deal?” She called me immediately, sensing something was off. I admitted, “I know it sounds silly, but I was a little bummed when you ordered my favorite dessert for yourself. I guess I just expected you to remember.”
Rachel was mortified. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t even realize! I was so caught up in making sure everyone was happy, I totally forgot. I’m really sorry.” She promised to make it up to me—with a homemade crème brûlée, no less.
What I Learned
It’s rarely about the dessert itself. It’s about feeling known, considered, and valued in the details. I learned that when small hurts crop up, it’s better to voice them kindly than to let them simmer. Real friendship means caring enough to pay attention—and to apologize when you miss the mark.
Rachel and I laughed about it later, but it became a gentle reminder: sometimes the sweetest part of friendship is simply showing that you remember.
Final Thought
If someone forgets a little ritual that means a lot to you, don’t be afraid to speak up. The best friendships can handle honesty—and the occasional missed dessert order. What matters most is the willingness to make things right.
