Mom sighed. “Nina, we love you, but we worry. Most startups fail. We just want you to be realistic about your options before it’s too late.”
I grabbed my potato salad from the car and didn’t respond.
Lunch was served at 2:00 p.m. Long tables were set up under oak trees, covered in platters of carne asada, chicken, rice, beans, tortillas, salsa. Seventy-five people eating, talking, laughing. I sat at the end of a table with my younger cousins, the ones still in college or just starting their careers. They were easier to talk to. They didn’t judge.
But halfway through the meal, Gabriella’s voice carried across the entire gathering.
“Did everyone see the announcement? Carlos proposed last month. We’re getting married in January at the Four Seasons.”
She waved her ring around, a massive diamond catching the sunlight. “He’s a partner at Thompson and Associates. We just bought a house in Westlake. Four bedrooms, pool, lake view.”
Everyone applauded. Congratulations rang out. Mom was crying happy tears.
Then Dad stood up, beer in hand. “And Miguel just closed his biggest deal yet. A commercial property in downtown Austin. $8.7 million. My son, the real estate mogul.”
More applause. Miguel stood and took a bow, grinning.
Then Tío Roberto called out, “What about Nina? Nina, you still doing your tech thing?”
The entire reunion turned to look at me.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Still doing it.”
“Is it going well?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“It’s—”
“Oh, please,” Gabriella interrupted, laughing. “Nah’s been doing her tech thing for six years now. If it was going well, we’d know by now.”
Several people laughed. Not mean laughter exactly, but amused, like I’d told a joke.
“Gabby,” I said carefully, “you don’t actually know what my company does or how it’s performing.”
“I know you live in a six-hundred-square-foot apartment and drive a car older than my relationship with Carlos.”
She was playing to the crowd now, emboldened by wine and attention.
“I know you work from coffee shops. I know you’ve never once invited any of us to visit your office because you probably don’t have one.”
“Gabby,” Miguel started.
“What? I’m just being honest. Nah’s a failed entrepreneur. It’s embarrassing. Someone needs to say it.”
The laughter stopped. Everyone went quiet. Mom set down her fork.
“Gabriella, that’s too harsh.”
“Is it, though? Mom, you said the same thing last week. You said Nah needs to face reality and get a real job before she wastes any more years.”
Mom’s face went red. “I didn’t say it like that.”
“You did. You said failed entrepreneur. Those were your exact words.”