The morning of my wedding, just as we were about to leave for the church, my mother decided to add a last-minute condition to the marriage. My fiancée, Mindy, furious and humiliated, called the whole thing off and married my cousin instead. In the awkward, painful aftermath, my childhood friend, Isabella, suddenly reappeared. She agreed to marry me, and my mother, miraculously, waived any financial demands. I was married. Three years later, my cousin James and his wife Mindy topped the local rich list. I became a stay-at-home dad. During the annual holiday feast at my mother’s house, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. It was my mother and my wife, Isabella. “You were brilliant, Mom, thinking up that last-minute demand for money. It was the perfect way to make Mindy’s family back out. Now Leo could finally marry the woman he truly loved.” A pause. “But if James ever finds out you manipulated him into marrying me just so Leo could have you… will he ever forgive you?” ... I had just gotten back from the market with groceries, and I froze outside the patio door, listening. My mother’s voice was nonchalant as she spit out a sunflower seed shell. “I’m his mother. I gave birth to him, I raised him. What’s there to forgive? I could tell him to stay single his whole life and he wouldn’t dare say a word.” She sighed, a theatrical sound. “The one I feel for is you, dear. You were in love with Leo too, but you gave up your own happiness for his, willing to marry James just to clear the way.” My wife, Isabella, sighed back. “It was a worthy sacrifice for Leo’s happiness. He’s so pure and kind-hearted; I couldn’t bear to see him struggle through life.” Her voice was laced with a dreamy satisfaction. “Knowing he could marry his true love, into a family of immense wealth and live a life without a single worry… that was all I ever wanted.” My mother patted Isabella’s shoulder. “And now, everything has come full circle. Leo and Mindy have a beautiful son, so handsome and bright. Mindy’s family was so thrilled with the good genes they gave him a ten-million-dollar bonus. They have three nannies. He’s set for life.” Isabella’s smile was audible in her voice. “I know. Did you see how happy he looked today? Even though Mindy was busy, she drove him and the baby over herself. It just proves we made the right decision.” A wave of nausea washed over me. I leaned against the wall, my legs threatening to give out. So that was the truth. My mother had always loved my cousin more than me. And my own wife… her heart belonged to him, too. So what was I? A placeholder? A complete and utter fool? These were the two people I loved most in the world, the people I trusted implicitly, and they had both betrayed me for someone else. Suddenly, the weight on my back shifted. My daughter, asleep in her carrier, woke up and began to cry. I had gone grocery shopping alone, with my one-year-old strapped to my back. I did it because I felt sorry for my mother, living alone all these years, and I didn't want to burden her. But clearly, her heart ached for a different child entirely. “You’re back?” My mother and Isabella peered out from the living room. “Did you get the crab? It’s Leo’s favorite.” “And the organic yogurt for little Alex?” Neither of them moved to take the heavy bags from my hands. I carried the groceries into the kitchen and quickly unstrapped my daughter, setting her down to mix her a bottle. In the living room, I could hear my mother and Isabella cooing and laughing, all three of them doting on James’s son. The sound was a knife in my gut. I pressed a hand to my chest. It hadn’t been long since my surgery. And here I was, looking after my daughter, and now expected to cook a feast for them all. A familiar burn started behind my eyes. I’d always known my mother favored my cousin, but I never imagined the depths of it. Isabella noticed me in the kitchen and called out, a perfunctory kindness in her tone. “Take your time, James. No rush. We can eat later.” My mother beamed. “See? Bella takes such good care of you! You chose the right wife.” This was her idea of being cared for? Empty words, followed by absolutely no action. My daughter finished her bottle and started tugging at my pants, her arms raised. “Up, Dada, up.” “Go to Mommy, sweetheart. Daddy has to cook.” She shook her head, her little face crumpling as she clung to my leg. She and Isabella weren't close. Isabella rarely spent any time with her. My mother frowned from the doorway, her face a mask of annoyance. “Bella’s not feeling well. Don’t tire her out. Just carry the baby yourself.” Not feeling well? I glanced into the living room, where Isabella was bouncing James’s son on her lap, dangling a brand-new toy in front of his face. She looked perfectly fine. If she’d given even half that energy to our own daughter, maybe my little girl wouldn’t be so clingy with me. With a sigh, I strapped my daughter back onto my chest and started prepping the vegetables. My back screamed in protest. My stamina had been shot ever since the surgery. Now, with this new, crushing weight on my heart, the physical pain felt a thousand times worse. This house, this family… there wasn't a single person here who loved me, who protected me, who even saw me. I washed the vegetables, my tears silently mingling with the water. Was this it? Was this my life? I was only twenty-eight. Was I supposed to endure this for another fifty, sixty years? A bitter resentment churned in my stomach. I refused. After a few minutes, my daughter started crying again. What toddler wants to be tied down? I had no choice but to take her into the bedroom and try to rock her back to sleep. As she gradually quieted in my arms, memories flooded back. When I was a kid, only my dad would comfort me. My mom was always over at my uncle’s house, fawning over James. “James is just so handsome, a little prince. Not like Leo, so scruffy and messy.” I was messy because I never had clothes that fit. James and I were the same age, but my mother always bought new clothes for him first. I only got them after he’d worn them out or grown tired of them. They were always too short, too tight. But she only saw me as sloppy, lacking class. My grades were better than James’s, but that never earned me any praise. “For a man, what matters is earning potential. Good grades don’t mean anything.” Later, when I started dating and brought Mindy home, the first thing my mother did was drag James over to meet her. I knew James asked Mindy out a few times behind my back, but she’d turned him down. When I mentioned it to my mother, she accused me of being petty. “James likes her, Leo. Just let him have her.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was the first time I ever defied her. Mindy and I were getting married. But on the wedding day, my mother got her way after all. She made her move, demanding an exorbitant sum of money from Mindy’s family. They could have afforded it, but Mindy saw my mother for what she was: a bottomless pit of greed. Refusing to be taken for a fool, she walked away in a rage. I begged her to stay, but it was useless. The invitations were sent, the reception was booked. And then James stepped forward, offering to marry Mindy with no financial demands, even increasing the customary gifts. Just like that, he stole my bride. And it was all my mother’s design. Her phone, charging on the nightstand, lit up with a text from my uncle. “Sis, thanks for having James over for the holiday. Appreciate you looking after him.” My eyes welled up. That was how a parent showed love for their son. Whenever I went to my uncle’s house, my mother’s only instruction was, “Make yourself useful. Don’t just sit around. You look after them, you hear me? Don’t embarrass me.” I thought of her Facebook profile. It was a shrine to James. “James, 18: My boy got into college! So proud! Got him a new MacBook!” I got into college too. My mother did nothing. I was the only kid in my dorm without a computer until I worked enough part-time jobs to buy my own. “James, 22: Graduated! The sky’s the limit for my brilliant boy! Here’s a $20,000 graduation present!” I had a job lined up before I even graduated. My mother said since I was earning money now, she didn’t need to give me an allowance anymore. Later, when James married Mindy, my mother posted again. “James, 25: A match made in heaven! So happy these two soulmates found each other!” When I married Isabella, my mother claimed she was too sick to attend the ceremony. All these years… it was like James was her real son, and I was nothing. The more I thought, the more the grief choked me, and tears streamed down my face. The silence from the kitchen finally registered. They realized no one was cooking. My mother stormed into the bedroom and saw me still holding my daughter. “What are you doing? Get out there and cook! It’s late! Do you want James and the others to starve?” “Shh,” I hissed. I had just gotten the baby to sleep. I didn’t want her to wake up. “Don’t you ‘shh’ me! Who does she think she is, a princess? I can’t even talk in my own house?” My mother deliberately raised her voice an octave. Startled by the sudden noise, my daughter woke up and started wailing again. Something inside me snapped. “Mom, this is your house. If you’re hungry, you can cook.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. She swung her hand and slapped my arm hard. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, ordering your own mother around. Everyone knows you’re the best cook. We were all counting on you!” Her voice was shrill. “Now put that child down and get to the kitchen.” I kept trying to soothe my daughter, but she wouldn’t stop crying. My mother tried to take her, but my daughter clung to my neck, refusing to let go. Of course she did. My mother never showed her any affection. She’d just plop her on the floor and ignore her, not even blinking if she fell and hit her head. Isabella came in. “Honey, give her to me. You need to get dinner started. James just said he’s getting hungry.” That sent my mother into a panic. The thought of her precious nephew being hungry was a catastrophe. “Oh, no, we can’t have that! He’s so thin, he’ll waste away if he gets too hungry. I’ll get him some snacks to tide him over. Oh, my poor boy.” I passed my daughter to Isabella, ignoring her protests. I went back into the kitchen. The moment the smell of cooking oil hit me, a wave of nausea rose in my throat, and I started to dry heave. It had been less than two months since my lung surgery. The doctor’s orders were explicit: stay out of kitchens, avoid dust and fumes, and rest. But clearly, rest was not on the menu today. My mother saw me clutching my mouth, not moving, and smacked me on the back of the head. “What’s wrong with you? Are you doing this on purpose? You barely visit all year, and now you’re too good to lift a finger?” I clutched my mouth, the pain making it hard to speak. “My lungs… they haven’t healed. It hurts.” My mother’s eyes bulged. “So what? When I was sick, I still had to work!” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “So because you suffered, I have to suffer too? Because you didn’t marry a rich man, you can’t stand to see me have a good life? When you were sick, Grandma didn’t help you, so now you want me to live through your misery? Does my pain make you feel better?” She flew into a rage, her arm a blur as she slapped me across the face, again and again, until I stumbled and fell to the floor. “You ungrateful brat! How dare you lecture me! I’ll beat the disrespect out of you!” Isabella and James rushed in and pulled her off me. “Auntie, it’s okay,” James said smoothly. “If Leo doesn’t want to cook, I can help.” My mother and Isabella both leaped to stop him. “No! You’re too delicate for this kind of work.” “He’s right, the fumes in here are terrible for your lungs. You should go back outside.” So they knew. They knew the risks. It just didn’t matter if it was me. James smiled his sweet, innocent smile. “Well, then I guess we’re counting on you, Leo. Thanks.” They went back to the living room, laughing and chatting as if nothing had happened. My mother shot one last venomous look at me on the floor. “Get up and cook. Stop playing dead.” Her voice was cold. “You can’t compare yourself to James. He was born for great things. You were born to struggle. A man has to know his place.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood and pushed myself up. A sharp pain shot through my chest. The doctor said to avoid stress and strong emotions. Was the surgery failing? I glanced into the living room. Isabella’s eyes were locked on James. They looked at each other as if the rest of the world had melted away. Fine. This house, this woman… I was done. Let this be our last meal together. After tonight, we go our separate ways. After I finally got a few dishes on the table, I went to wash my hands. James followed me into the kitchen, crossing his arms. “You know, cousin, you’re only two months older than me. Funny how different our fates are.” I knew where this was going. I ignored him. “Mindy loves me. Your wife, Isabella, loves me. You’ve really made a failure of your life, haven’t you?” he continued, his voice dripping with condescending pity. “And your daughter… I bet she’ll inherit your pathetic luck. Destined to serve my family, just like you.” My head snapped up. Now he was talking about my daughter. I glared at him. “What the hell do you want, James?” His eyes slid over to where my daughter was playing on the floor. A strange, predatory smile twisted his lips. “My little Alex has some trouble with his eyes. We’re looking for a cornea donor. Your daughter’s look perfect.” He leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Auntie already agreed. And so did Bella, of course.” A white-hot rage, pure and blinding, exploded in my chest. They were monsters. My daughter was barely a year old. I lunged toward the living room to confront them, but James blocked my path. He shoved me, hard. I lost my balance and crashed forward, my chest slamming into the sharp corner of a table. The spot where they had operated erupted in excruciating pain. Suddenly, James threw himself to the ground and started shouting. “Ow! Leo, why did you hit me? Just because I didn’t help you cook, you had to attack me?”
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