You Used to Be Normal, Didn’t You?

You know how you used to be just… normal?

Hey, can you spot me fifty quid? Im out of cash and the cars on empty, the voice note from James ended.

Emma just opened her banking app, tapped the transfer button, and sent £5 to James in a flash. Faster than she could finish the annoyed thought in her head.

Thanks, love, youre a star! his reply pinged a minute later.

She set the phone down and stared at the ceiling of her flat in London. A star, huh. Who else would ping money at 11p.m. without asking any questions? Who else wouldnt remind me about that £30 I lent them two weeks ago?

Six months earlier things were different. She, James, Emily and Oliver all earned about the same give or take a few hundred pounds, nothing serious. We split the pizza bill evenly, split the café tab four ways, never kept track of each others wallets. Then Emma finished her dissertation, got a promotion and moved to a new department.

Her salary quadrupled. Not 1.5×, not 2×, but four times the old amount.

At first she didnt even notice the shift. For a couple of months she lived like before, stashing away for a rainy day, buying groceries on sale, counting every purchase as if it were over a thousand pounds. Old habit. But the mates caught on instantly. It was like a neon sign flashing over her forehead: Im rich now, bring it on.

Emma plonked herself on the bed, knees pulled up to her chest, and remembered that first night after her raise when they all came over. Emily brought a cheap fizzy drink, Oliver a bag of crisps. James showed up emptyhanded, grinning.

Emma ordered sushi rolls, decent drinks, cheese and fruit. As she always did, she split the bill into four and dropped the total in the group chat. Nobody sent her their share. She waited a day, two, a week. Then she nudged them with a polite reminder, complete with a smiley face.

Emma, whats up? Youve got money to burn now, Emily texted back.
Dont worry, well chip in next time, Oliver added.

The next time never came. Well, it did, but the same story repeated. Emma set the table, the friends showed up, ate, left, and Emma footed the whole bill again.

Finally she asked straight out while they were finishing the pasta shed spent two hours making in her kitchen.

Guys, how are we going to split the costs? Ive shelled out about £500 for this night.

James choked on his wine. Emilys eyes widened. Oliver pretended to study the pattern on the tablecloth.

Emma, love, youre rich now. £500 to you is like £50 to us, Emily said in that condescending tone you use with a petulant child.
Exactly, James chimed. You wont go broke, and were already skint.
Dont be stingy, Emma, Oliver patted her shoulder. Were friends.

Friends. Emma forced a smile, nodded, and let the awkward topic drop. She didnt want a fight, didnt want to look like the greedy one counting pennies on a sixfigure salary. But after that night she started dodging them as much as she could, blaming work, fatigue, plans. Sometimes she even fibbed just to avoid feeling used.

Going out to the shops with them turned into a little torture. Every time someone forgot their wallet, couldnt get cash, or left their card at home. Two thousand here, three thousand there. Emma always covered it because refusing felt rude when there was a line of people behind you.

But the money never came back. Never.

Then New Years Eve rolled around. Emma was standing in her living room, eyeing the spread: turkey, roast potatoes, Brussels sprouts, a mountain of mandarins in a crystal bowl. All beautiful, all on her tab.

She hadnt planned to spend the night alone, watching some cheesy midnight movie and crashing at 2a.m., but the friends kept insisting.

Emma, youll be on your own for New Years? Well be there, itll be a laugh!
Your flats big enough for all of us!
You wont ditch us, will you?

She said yes, hoping maybe theyd changed, maybe theyd actually chip in or at least say thank you.

The TV muttered in the background. Emma adjusted the glittery bauble on the fake tree in the corner and glanced at the clock. Eleven. The doorbell rang a quarter to midnight. Emily burst in first, surrounded by clouds of cheap perfume and sequins.

Emma! Happy New Year! I brought you a little present!

James and Oliver followed in, grinning.

Whoa, nice table! Oliver flopped onto the sofa and lunged for the turkey. Emma, youve outdone yourself. I havent eaten since breakfast.

Emma fetched glasses, poured drinks, they clinked and toasted the year gone and the new one, the friendship. She smiled, said all the right things, but inside something was gnawing. She held it in. Not now. Not with twelve minutes to midnight.

When the clock struck, Emma made a quiet wish: that next year would be fairer.

Presents! Emily squealed. Lets open them!

Emma handed out the gift bags.

Here you go, Emma! Emily shoved a bag into her hands. Inside was a watermelonscented shower gel.

Oh, thanks, Emma said, turning it over. Watermelon. Cute.
From me! Oliver tossed his bag over.

A pair of red reindeer socks, price tag still on £1.20.

Cool, she set the socks aside.
And from me! James presented a tiny box.

Three cheap plastic baubles, paint peeling.

Emma looked at her haul: gel, socks, baubles. Total cost, about £3. She nodded to herself. Right. All right.

Now its my turn, she said.

Emily ripped hers open first: a diary, some sweets and a pair of reindeer socks that were a bit nicer.

Oliver got a shaving kit and some candy. James received a travel mug and a scarf. Their faces fell in perfect sync, like theyd rehearsed it.

Eh? Emily said, holding up the diary. Thats it?
What do you mean?
Is this the whole gift? she waved the diary.

Emma leaned back, crossed her legs.

Yes. Anything wrong?
Emma, James jumped in, we thought youd splash out a bit. You can afford it.
Im giving you roughly what you gave me, she said evenly. Same price range. Thats fair.
Thats unfair! Emily snapped. You earn a hundred times more than us!
I earn four times more. That doesnt mean I have to spend more on you than you spend on me.
Youre obliged! Emily stood up, cheeks flushed, diary still in hand. Friends share!

Emma stared up at her, at the glitter in her hair, at the trembling lips.

Share? Ive covered every meetup for six months. You never pay back. You show up emptyhanded and eat my food. And now you expect me to keep footing the bill?
Youre greedy, Oliver said. Just greedy. Youve got loads of cash and act like youre broke.
Im fed up being used, Emma said, standing. You owe me a lot. Not a penny returned. Tonights feast cost me £150. Did you chip in? No. Offer to? No. You just sat and ate because Im rich.
Because its peanuts to you! Emily shouted. Its nothing!
It doesnt matter if its pennies or pounds. Its my money. I earned it. I dont have to throw it at people who treat me like a walking wallet.

Silence. Oliver exhaled loudly. James turned toward the window. Emily stared at the diary, red smears on her cheeks.

Youve changed, she whispered. You used to be normal.

Emily tossed the diary onto the sofa.

Lets go, guys. Nothing left for us here.

They slipped out, pulling jackets on, not even looking back. James finally paused at the door.

Dont be like this, Emma. Weve been friends forever.
We were, she replied. Then you decided I should support you.

The door slammed. Footsteps faded up the stairs. Emma was alone in the flat, the scent of roast turkey and burnt sparklers hanging in the air.

She went back to the table, poured herself another glass, ate a spoonful of salad it was actually good with homemade mayo grabbed a mandarin, then another. The TV was playing Love Actually. Emma smirked, grabbed her phone, blocked Emily, then James, then Oliver. Deleted them from every social platform, cleared the chats.

This friendship didnt survive the money test. Shed thought true friends would stay friends no matter how many zeros were on the pay slip. Nope. Money turned out to be a litmus test, showing who stayed for you and who stayed for your wallet.

She finished the turkey, snuggled under a blanket, switched the channel. Outside, fireworks burst, painting the night sky over the rooftops. She watched them, smiling a genuine, relaxed smile.

Its not the end. Shell find new people, those who value her for who she is, with or without a paycheck.

The mandarins smelled of holidays and childhood. Emma peeled another, split it, popped it in her mouth. Sweet, juicy, perfect.

Happy New Year, Emma. Happy new life, she whispered to herself.