It came up exactly once, casually. My cousin let slip that her school has AC in every classroom. Mine, of course, does not — we run on ceiling fans that mostly just move the hot air around. Should've been a throwaway comment. It was not.
That single mention has since embedded itself permanently into family conversations. Doesn't matter the topic — food, festivals, marks, weather, anything — somehow it circles back to the fact that her school has AC and mine doesn't. It's become a fixed reference point, a little flag she plants in every discussion.
I, for my part, have genuinely made peace with the fan. It spins, it's loud, it occasionally provides relief, and I've accepted it as my classroom reality. No resentment. I've moved on.
She has not moved on. Not even slightly. Given any opening, she'll bring it up again with the same fresh enthusiasm as the first time, like she's revealing it for the first time all over again. At this point the AC isn't even about temperature anymore. It's a permanent scoreboard, and she is committed to reminding me I'm losing.