Chapter 3

3

Tears streamed down my face.

What else could I do? I could only watch as they left.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

My makeup was flawless, I was wearing this gorgeous white dress.

I was supposed to be a happy bride today.

But at that moment, I felt like a clown.

A knock came at the door.

It was Tom.

My family was delighted to see him, welcoming him in like he was a celebrity.

He was there to discuss the wedding details for the redo on the fifth day after the new year.

He looked around, a bit confused. "Isn't Jenny coming home for the holidays?"

Polly's eyes immediately welled up.

"Jenny must be mad at us for not inviting her, it's not like I meant to."

Tom pulled her into a hug.

"I misspoke, never mind her, it's bad luck for her to come back anyways. Baby, don't be sad, just focus on being a beautiful bride."

Polly beamed. "Don't say that! She's still my sister after all."

Her words were so gracious and understanding that everyone praised her, while also finding new ways to put me down.

Compared to her, I was always stubborn, weird, and unlikeable.

Even my hard-won achievements were tainted by her actions. My family couldn't give me a single word of congratulations.

I remember the time I won first prize in a writing contest.

I asked my parents to come to the awards ceremony so I could share my joy, and the organizers wanted to interview us for a newspaper article.

They agreed.

But on the day, they called, saying they couldn't come.

"Polly was crying, she's so weak, it must be her depression, we need to be with her," my dad said before hanging up.

I stood alone, clutching the trophy, giving my acceptance speech, and then apologizing to the organizers.

Because my parents weren't there, they had to rewrite the whole schedule.

They glowered at me, reprimanding me for "being such a problem."

I didn't argue, I just held back my tears.

Later, I saw pictures on Polly's social media.

Mom and Dad had taken her to an amusement park. She was laughing happily on the carousel, flashing a peace sign.

Is that depression?

Why did she suddenly get depressed every time I needed my parents?

The one who was really depressed, it was me!

It was late, everyone was getting ready for bed.

Our house had three bedrooms.

My parents had one, my brother another, and Polly had the third.

As for me, I could only sleep in the cramped, converted closet-like storage room in the living room.

It was so small, barely enough room for a tiny bed. I spent my difficult teenage years there.

Even changing clothes was a hassle.

I protested, I wanted my own room. If that wasn't possible, I could share with Polly.

Two girls sharing a room was perfectly normal. Her bedroom was the biggest in the house, we could easily fit two beds in it.

But Polly refused, saying I wasn't good enough to share a room with her.

I cried and argued with them.

Why wasn't I good enough?

I was also a daughter in this house.

But my parents wouldn't stand up for me, they always took Polly's side.

They stubbornly forced me into the storage room, ignoring my tears.