At my brother’s wedding, his fiancée slapped me in front of 150 guests — all because I refused to hand over my house. My mom hissed, “Don’t make a scene. Just leave quietly.” My dad added, “Some people don’t know how to be generous with family.” My brother shrugged, “Real family supports each other.” My uncle nodded, “Some siblings just don’t understand their obligations.” And my aunt muttered, “Selfish people always ruin special occasions.” So I walked out. Silent. Calm. But the next day… everything started falling apart. And none of them were ready for what came next.
I stood frozen, the heat in my cheek matching the fire in my soul. Tears burned behind my eyes, desperate to fall, but I refused to give them that satisfaction. If I cried, I lost. If I screamed, I was the crazy one.
I lifted my chin. I smoothed the front of my emerald dress. I looked Clarissa dead in the eye.
