PART 1 – THE FORBIDDEN WEDDING
My younger brother was getting married.
The bride’s family demanded eighty-eight thousand dollars as a dowry,
plus a four-bedroom house in downtown Seattle.
For me, this wasn’t particularly shocking.
I’d been fortunate these past few years – my tech startup had taken off,
and I’d built something substantial from nothing.
That evening, Mom knocked on my bedroom door, hoping I could help Marcus out financially.
I had barely nodded my agreement when my phone buzzed with a text from him:
“Sis, don’t come to the wedding.”
I stared at the message, confused, and sent back a question mark.
Next month, October eighth, was Marcus’s wedding day.
As his older sister, I’d been planning for weeks to fly back to Portland from my base in San Francisco.
Looking at my half-packed suitcase on the floor, I decisively flopped onto my bed and texted him back.
He took forever to respond, the screen showing “typing…” for what felt like an eternity.
I thought maybe he was having pre-wedding jitters.
Finally, he sent:
“Sis, Scarlett’s mom took our entire family’s birth charts to a psychic.
The reading says you and Scarlett have conflicting astrological signs.
It would be best if you stayed away.”
I was stunned.
I read the message several times before I could believe these words actually came from my brother –
a graduate of Stanford University.
But he wasn’t done:
“Scarlett’s pregnant, and her mom says you’re a Rat year and she’s a Horse year.
If you come to the wedding and something happens to the baby…
I’d regret it for the rest of my life.”
Those words hit me like a physical blow.
So this was all orchestrated by my so-called “future sister-in-law.”
My brother’s wedding, and I wasn’t allowed to attend.
My unborn niece or nephew was already being labeled as “incompatible” with me before even being born.
This was clearly a power play, a warning to me – the person who had raised him from childhood –
that now he was just a puppet in her hands.
I texted back:
“Is this Scarlett’s request?”
He replied:
“Scarlett really wants you there, but I’m worried about affecting her health,
so I’m the one stopping you.”
I honestly didn’t know what to say.
With that kind of logic, he wouldn’t last three episodes in a palace intrigue drama before getting
eliminated.
I knew Scarlett resented me.
Before they got together officially, I’d seen Scarlett being intimate with several different men
simultaneously.
Back then, Marcus was still desperately pursuing her, and when I gently warned him, that fool said:
“If she didn’t have feelings, why would she be playing around with them and not other guys?”
I could only facepalm and give him a thumbs up:
“Six out of ten, hopeless case.”
Later, Scarlett cut ties with the others, leaving only Marcus as the most persistent pursuer.
She finally agreed to date him.
That idiot thought he had successfully “leveled up” and went and told Scarlett everything I’d said about
her.
From then on, she held a grudge against me.
Back then, I jokingly asked Mom:
“Did the Barrett family put a spell on Marcus?
He’s completely bewitched.”
Mom said:
“They’re materialists, they don’t believe in superstitious nonsense.”
Even with the astrology reading, initially Mom had to convince them for ages before they agreed.
They even mocked our family at the time:
“Only powerless people rely on heaven’s help.”
Yet now they were using these same “superstitious” beliefs to exclude me.
I told Mom everything, angrily waiting for her to defend me and scold that deluded brother of mine.
Instead, I got a dismissive:
“If Scarlett doesn’t want you there, then don’t go.”
I sat frozen on the couch, my ears ringing.
“Mom… he’s my brother.”
Mom continued casually peeling grapes, her words chilling my heart:
“Marcus worked so hard to get to this point.
Just transfer the dowry money and house payment – you don’t need to attend the wedding.”
Don’t need to…
The brother I had raised with my own hands.
The mother I had once revered.
Couldn’t they see this was Scarlett’s manipulation?
Despite the pain, Mom and Marcus were the only family I had left in this world.
As long as they were happy, I could endure it.
As long as Scarlett truly loved my brother.
That day off, I planned to go to the bank to transfer money to Marcus.
The weather was overcast, drizzling, with thick dark clouds.
My car happened to be restricted that day due to the license plate rotation system.
The rideshare app showed 158 people ahead of me in the queue.
I finally got a ride, but near the destination, the car skidded and rear-ended the vehicle in front of
us.
I hit my head on the seat, feeling dizzy and disoriented.
The concerned driver took me to the hospital.
The doctor said I had a mild concussion and needed to be admitted for observation.
During the examination, my phone rang several times, but I couldn’t answer.
After the IV drip, Marcus called again.
Before I could speak, he exploded:
“Sophia, are you doing this on purpose?”
“You knew I was meeting with Scarlett’s parents today to discuss things,
and you still haven’t transferred the money!”
I wanted to say:
“I was in a car accident…” But those words swirled in my mouth and were ultimately swallowed by his
vicious tone.
My silence only made Marcus more furious:
“Sophia, don’t think having some money gives you the right to control me!”
“If you won’t give me the money, I’ll find it myself.
I’ll stand on my own!”
“Don’t think that raising me for a few years makes you my mother.
My real mother is still alive!
Just wait – I’ll have Mom deal with you!”
Before I could say anything, he hung up with a slam.
Within minutes, Mom called.
I lay in the hospital bed, my head pounding, lips cracked, throat burning.
“You’re really petty!
Just because Marcus won’t let you attend the wedding, you won’t transfer the money?
Are you planning to watch him break up, unable to marry or have children,
and then who’s going to take care of you when you’re old?”
“People need to think long-term, don’t be so impulsive.”
Before I could speak, Mom launched into a lecture like she was scolding a child.
I wearily interrupted:
“Mom, I was in a car accident.”
Silence for a few seconds, then a cold laugh:
“Stop pretending, Sophia.
I gave birth to you – don’t I know what kind of person you are?
You’re just trying to threaten them.”
“Let me tell you, you’re transferring this money whether you want to or not!
If you don’t, don’t call me Mom anymore!”
Mom’s voice was so loud that everyone in the hospital room could hear.
I saw the pitying looks from people around me – the kind of look you give something broken and discarded.
I was the illegitimate child.
After my biological father learned Mom was pregnant, he disappeared.
Mom was desperate and considered giving me up, but the doctor said if she had an abortion,
she might never be able to have children again.
It was my stepfather – Marcus’s father – who didn’t mind that Mom had a child from another relationship
and married her.
Later, they had Marcus, who became the “apple of Mom’s eye.”
At the dinner table, meat and eggs always went to him first.
Only after he couldn’t finish would Mom give me a piece or two.
He got new clothes every month, while I wore hand-me-downs and patched-up clothes from cousins.
The year I got into a prestigious high school, my stepfather had an accident at the factory,
lost his right hand, got laid off, and our family lost its only source of income.
Mom had to work washing dishes at restaurants, and I was forced to drop out to make way for Marcus’s
education.
My homeroom teacher felt sorry for me and couldn’t bear to see a good student drop out,
so he arranged for me to attend school for free.
All the scholarships and poverty assistance I received each year,
I saved to buy shoes and clothes for Marcus.
In eleventh grade, I had a fever of 104°F, and Marcus carried me through the rain to the hospital.
The doctor said if we’d been any later, I could have suffered brain damage.
From then on, I always felt grateful to him, even considering him my lifesaver.
Without him, I wouldn’t have achieved today’s success.
Whatever he wanted, I tried to give him.
When I heard the Barrett family was demanding such a high dowry,
I warned him that they only saw him as an ATM.
But he was blinded by love and wouldn’t listen to anyone.
That night, he knelt before me, his face full of determination:
“Sis, I only love Scarlett in this lifetime.
If I can’t marry her, I’ll die.”
That threat scared me into not advising him further.
Fine, as long as he was happy, I’d accept the sacrifice.
Once a heart is invaded by cold, it’s very hard to warm it again.
I woke with a start from a nightmare, my hand throbbing – the IV needle had come loose.
A patient’s family member from the next bed quickly called a nurse to help.
After they fixed it, he placed a red apple on my bedside table:
“Wishing you peace and good fortune.”
I smiled, tears involuntarily flowing.
Even strangers could offer me warmth, yet my own family had not an ounce of love to spare.
After finishing all the procedures, I turned off my phone and focused on treatment.
When I was discharged and returned home, the house was a mess, Mom’s room empty –
she had already gone back to Marcus’s place.
Turns out, she never really wanted to stay with me.
Living with me for half a month was just to extract money for Marcus.
Now that she knew I wouldn’t transfer the money and there was no more benefit, she left.
I dragged my exhausted body around, slowly cleaning up the chaotic house.
Truly, lonely to the bone.
These “family members” only brought me heartache and exhaustion… were they worth keeping?
