My fiancé and I chose to finance our wedding ourselves, politely declining any help from his wealthy parents. When I mentioned I’d be baking our wedding cake, his mother, Christine, laughed — clearly unimpressed. But baking had always been a passion of mine, and I was determined to make something special.

After days of effort, I crafted a three-tiered cake with raspberry filling and hand-piped florals. At the reception, it was a hit — guests raved, and I felt proud. But then, Christine stole the spotlight. Grabbing the mic, she announced to everyone that she had baked the cake. I was stunned. She soaked in compliments for something she hadn’t even helped with. I was ready to call her out, but my fiancé stopped me, whispering, “Let her lie — she’ll regret it.”

And she did. The next morning, Christine called in a panic. A wealthy guest had asked her to bake a cake for a charity event. She was desperate — she had no idea how to bake. I let the silence hang before saying, “I only bake for people who give credit where it’s due.”

I didn’t need applause or recognition. The cake spoke for itself. And Christine? She got exactly what she deserved: a lesson in humility, served cold.