Right before our Thanksgiving family dinner, my sister suddenly offered to braid my hair. I had barely sat down when I heard a sharp snip right behind my ears. Seven years of waist-length hair, chopped off right at the nape of my neck. My sister, Chloe, paused for two seconds before collapsing onto the sofa in a fit of hysterical laughter. "Oops, I accidentally cut too much! Oh my god, Maya, you look like Lord Farquaad!" My mom looked at the piles of hair scattered across the hardwood floor and started laughing too. "Well, it's an improvement, honestly. You always walk around with your hair in your face like the girl from The Ring. At least this saves us a trip to the salon." I clenched my fists, my throat painfully dry. My dad impatiently waved us toward the dining room. "Hair grows back. Why do you think Chloe only pranks you and not anyone else? It's because she loves you and wants to get a rise out of you. Sit down and eat." My eyes instantly burned with tears. I turned to look at my boyfriend. He was looking down at his phone, transferring money to my sister. "Twenty bucks. A bet is a bet." Feeling my gaze on him, he casually waved his phone at me. "Chloe bet you'd start crying in one minute. I bet you'd last three. You really let me down, babe." The entire room erupted into laughter again. I stood completely frozen in place. When I was sixteen, Chloe wrote "LOSER" in permanent marker on the back of my favorite hoodie, making me the laughingstock of the school for an entire semester. When I was twenty-one, she hid my prescription glasses, making me completely bomb my senior thesis presentation. Every single time I got angry, they would just laugh and ask: "Why can't you take a joke?" This time, a wave of profound, bone-deep exhaustion washed over me. All these years, I was never a daughter, a sister, or a partner. I was just a prop they used to keep Chloe entertained. But this time, I didn't want to play their game anymore. 1 Chloe finally stopped laughing, picked up a chopped lock of my hair from the floor, and held it under her chin like a beard. "Mom, look! Do I look like a caveman?" My mom laughed so hard she nearly spilled the gravy. "Throw that away, it's dirty." Chloe pulled out her phone and started snapping photos of me, the camera shutter clicking rapidly. I raised my hand to block my face. "Stop." "I already got them." She snickered, already swiping through filters on her screen. "Thanksgiving exclusive. I already have the caption: From Princess to Lord Farquaad in one snip." I lunged forward to grab her phone. My boyfriend, Ethan, smoothly stepped in and pulled her behind him protectively. "Come on, relax. It's not like she's posting an ugly picture of you." The next second, my phone buzzed. Chloe had dropped a photo of me—eyes red, hair jagged and completely uneven—into the extended family group chat. A wall of “LMAO” and laughing emojis instantly flooded the screen. My aunt sent a sticker of a cartoon character pointing and laughing. My cousin asked if it was a new avant-garde trend. My mom actually typed out a reply: "Chloe's hand slipped. Gave her sister a bald spot." Followed by three crying-laughing emojis. I stared at the messages, my hands growing ice cold. "Delete it." Chloe rolled her eyes. "It's just the family group chat. I didn't post it on Instagram." My dad slammed his fork against his plate. "Are we eating or what? We've been waiting on you. Are you seriously going to ruin Thanksgiving and turn this family into enemies over some hair?" I was the one who had my hair hacked off. Yet somehow, I was the one ruining the holiday. I didn't say another word. After I sat down, my mom placed a piece of turkey on my plate. Acting as if absolutely nothing had happened. "Your grandmother wants to FaceTime tomorrow, so don't give me that attitude. She's old, if she sees you sulking she'll think we're abusing you." Chloe immediately chimed in. "You should probably wear a beanie, Maya. If Grandma sees that haircut her blood pressure is going to spike." The table erupted into laughter again. Ethan even reached over and patted the top of my ruined hair. "It is a little prickly." I flinched violently, dodging his hand. His hand hovered in mid-air, his smile fading. "Is that really necessary? I didn't even say it looked bad." I looked up at him. He had already turned away to pass the mashed potatoes to Chloe. "Chloe, tone it down. If you make your sister cry again, I'm the one who has to spend all night coaxing her." Chloe stuck her tongue out at him. "Isn't that the perfect opportunity for you to play the good boyfriend?" They tapped their glasses together in perfect synchronization. As if they were the ones who had been dating for seven years. Halfway through dinner, I got a text from the Regional Director at my firm. There was an opening for a transfer to the New York office. They had been holding the position for me for a month. Double the salary, three-year contract. I had previously turned it down twice. The first time, because my mom said New York was too far from home. The second time, because Ethan said we were getting engaged by the end of the year, so there was no point in relocating. The Director sent one final message: "Are you absolutely sure you don't want it? You have until midnight to change your mind." I stared at the screen for a long time. In the living room, Chloe was giving a dramatic reenactment of the exact facial expression I made when the scissors cut my hair. My mom said my eyes bugged out like a cartoon character. My dad chuckled, saying I was much more fun to prank when I was a teenager because I used to cry immediately. Ethan smiled and added, "She's exactly the same now. Zero character development." I lowered my head and typed back two words. "I'll take it." 2 The next morning, I went to the salon down the street. The stylist held up the jagged, uneven remnants of my hair and sighed. "I can't even blend this into a bob. Whoever did this went way too deep on one side. I have to give you a pixie cut to even it out." I nodded. "Just cut it." The scissors snipped methodically. In the mirror, I watched the long hair I had painstakingly maintained for seven years fall to the floor. It wasn't that I never wanted to cut my hair. But seven years ago, when I first started working, I was broke and commuting two hours a day on the subway. The hardest nights were when Ethan and I sat on the steps of our cramped apartment eating cheap instant ramen. He would always twirl the ends of my hair around his fingers. "Don't ever cut it," he'd say. "Long hair looks so beautiful on you. I want you to look exactly like this on our wedding day." I listened to him. And I kept it for seven years. As the stylist brushed the stray hairs off my neck, she offered a sympathetic smile. "The short hair actually looks really sharp on you." I gave a faint smile back. "Yeah." Suddenly, it didn't feel like such a tragedy to lose it anymore. When I got back to the house, there were four pairs of shoes in the entryway. But the living room was empty. I was about to call my mom when my Instagram feed refreshed. Chloe had posted a carousel of photos from the downtown Holiday Light Show. My mom and dad were holding hot cocoas. Chloe was in the middle, and Ethan was standing right next to my dad. The final photo was a selfie of the four of them smiling brightly at the camera. The caption was just two words: "Whole squad." I stared at the photos for a long time. My mom had explicitly told me that we would all go together once I got back from the salon. They probably just got tired of waiting. Or maybe, they never intended to wait at all. Half an hour later, the front door unlocked. Chloe walked in carrying shopping bags. When she saw me, she let out a loud whistle. "Whoa, you actually went full G.I. Jane." My mom followed her inside. "You cut it that short?" She frowned, circling me to inspect the cut. "That stylist is terrible. You look like a teenage boy." I looked at her. "You guys went to the light show?" My mom paused. "It was a last-minute decision. Chloe said it would be too crowded later, so we just went for a quick walk. You were getting your hair cut anyway, we'll all go together next time." My dad swapped his shoes for slippers and added dismissively: "It's just a light show. It's not like they're never doing it again." Chloe had already skipped back to her bedroom. When she came back out, she was wearing a delicate pearl hair clip. I froze. It was mine. Ethan had given it to me for my birthday last year. I walked over to her. "That belongs to me." Chloe touched the pearls. "I know." "You can't even use it with your hair like that anyway, so I'm just borrowing it." I held out my hand. "Give it back." Her face instantly scowled. My mom quickly stepped between us. "What are you doing? Chloe is just trying it on. Your hair is gone, if you leave it in your drawer it's just going to collect dust." My dad groaned in annoyance. "Are you two seriously fighting over a cheap piece of plastic?" I looked at Ethan. He stared at the clip for a few seconds. "What clip?" My chest suddenly felt completely hollow. "The one you bought me for my birthday last year." He let out an "Oh." As if he had finally remembered. Then he smiled. "Just let Chloe wear it. It perfectly matches the dress she has on today." Chloe immediately shook her head triumphantly. "See? Ethan said it's fine." I didn't ask for it again. That night, corporate emailed me my official transfer documents. I had to report to the New York office in three days. After signing the digital forms, I pulled out my suitcase. When my mom walked into my room and saw the open suitcase on the floor, she paused. "Why are you packing so early?" I stopped folding my shirts. She answered her own question. "Oh, because you guys are getting formally engaged by the end of the year? Makes sense. It's a good idea to start moving your stuff over to Ethan's place slowly." As she spoke, she casually pulled a brand-new, tags-still-attached beige trench coat out of my closet. "Have you worn this yet? If you aren't going to wear it, let me give it to Chloe. She's been looking for a coat exactly this color." I looked at her. And I suddenly smiled. "Give it to her." My mom smiled back brightly. "See, that's more like it. Sisters shouldn't hold grudges over silly little things." She walked out of the room hugging my coat. She didn't even bother to ask why my suitcase was entirely filled with my birth certificate, my social security card, and my heavy winter clothes. 3 The next morning, Ethan came over carrying coffee and bagels. I was taking down the framed photos from my bedroom wall. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me for a minute. "Are you still mad?" "Come on, drop it. Chloe told me she was so scared last night she barely slept." I paused. "Why was she scared?" "Because she thought you were actually going to cut her off," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "She's just a little brat, she isn't malicious. You're the older sister, you can't hold a grudge against her forever." I placed the final photo into my suitcase. It was a picture of Ethan and me from our first year dating. He suddenly noticed my hair. "You went that short?" I gave a noncommittal "Yeah." He stared at me for two seconds. Then he actually smiled. "It actually looks good." "My mom always said your hair was way too long. She said it looked unkempt." I looked up. "Your mom?" "Yeah." Ethan poked a straw into an iced coffee and handed it to me. "She actually told me a while ago that she wanted you to cut it short before the wedding. I just didn't know how to bring it up. Chloe doing it was kind of a happy accident." I didn't take the coffee. "So you knew she was going to cut my hair?" His expression faltered for a second before he laughed it off. "I had a feeling." "She texted me a few days ago asking what kind of prank would get the biggest reaction out of you." My fingers slowly curled into tight fists. Ethan didn't notice. "I just casually mentioned your hair. I didn't think she'd actually take a pair of scissors to it." I stared at him. "You knew I spent seven years growing it out." "Of course I knew." He looked at me like I was being unreasonable. "That's why it's funny. If she messed with something you didn't care about, what would be the point of the prank?" The room went dead silent. Ethan chuckled at his own logic. "Don't give me that look. I love it when you get riled up. You keep everything bottled up all the time. Chloe is the only one who can push your buttons enough to make you seem like a real, living person." Like a real, living person. So when I was crying in frustration, shaking with anxiety, and being mocked by a room full of people... To him, that meant I was "living." Chloe walked in from the hallway just in time to hear his last sentence. She instantly pounced, laughing. "See! I told you! Ethan knows exactly where all your trigger buttons are!" She started counting on her fingers, bragging to me. "Remember that white dress you wore to meet his parents last year? The lipstick prank? Ethan was the one who gave me the idea for that." My lungs stopped taking in air. Ethan's face finally changed. "Why would you bring that up?" Chloe was clueless. "Didn't you explicitly tell me that dress was her most prized possession, so I should target that instead of her shoes? And the year before that..." "Enough." Ethan snapped, cutting her off violently. The room fell completely silent. I looked at him. Last year, the first time I was invited to meet Ethan's parents, Chloe intentionally smeared bright red lipstick all over the back of my skirt. For the entire dinner, Ethan's mother kept giving me bizarre, judgmental looks. It wasn't until I got home that I realized someone had drawn a massive, sloppy red heart right on my backside. I cried the entire night. Ethan held me and comforted me for hours. He told me: "Chloe is just so immature. I'll rip into her for you tomorrow." It turns out the person who handed her the knife... was him. Ethan clearly remembered that night too. He looked incredibly guilty, which only made his tone more defensive. "That was forever ago. Are you seriously going to dig up ancient history just to pick a fight?" Chloe stood behind him, muttering quietly. "Yeah, Maya, you hold onto grudges way too long." I suddenly let out a laugh. Both of them froze. I nodded. "You're right. I'm done digging." Ethan audibly sighed in relief. He reached out to hug me. "That's my girl. Once you've cooled off in a few days, we'll go reshoot those engagement photos." I didn't pull away. I just stared at the massive, empty white square on the wall where our photos used to hang. "Okay." That afternoon, I called the wedding planner. I canceled the engagement banquet scheduled for next month. I had paid the deposit. After deducting the cancellation fees, they wired the remaining balance back to my account. Then, I gathered Ethan's spare apartment keys, the credit card he gave me, and the diamond engagement ring. I dropped them all into a small paper bag. Chloe poked her head into my room. "Maya, we're having fondue tonight. Mom bought the ingredients for your favorite crab dip." I zipped my suitcase shut. "Sounds good." She didn't notice that my closet was completely empty. 4 The morning of my departure, the house was even more chaotic than usual. Chloe was in the living room, meticulously setting up a ring light and tripod. When I walked past, she immediately threw a blanket over her phone. "No peeking! We're doing a Thanksgiving sequel tonight." My mom walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of fruit. "You better dial it back. You really pushed your sister to the edge yesterday." She said it as a warning, but she was smiling. Chloe looked incredibly smug. "Don't worry! Maya stays mad for exactly two days, max." My dad sat on the recliner, flipping through the newspaper. "She's been like that since she was a kid. She used to pack a bag and 'run away from home,' only to walk to the end of the block, get hungry, and come right back." Ethan was leaning against the dining table, sipping his coffee. Hearing that, he let out a soft laugh. "She's exactly the same now. Where is she going to go?" None of them bothered to lower their voices. Because none of them believed for a single second that I was actually leaving. When my mom saw the suitcase in the entryway, she asked, "Are you moving your stuff to Ethan's place today?" Chloe let out an exaggerated "Ooooh. Maya, you're so eager!" Ethan looked surprised, but a smug smile quickly spread across his face. "You should have told me. I thought you were actually going to give me the silent treatment for a few days." He walked over to grab the handle of my suitcase. I sidestepped him. "I've got it." Ethan clicked his tongue. "Still mad. Fine, Princess, carry it yourself." My mom tried to smooth things over. "Girls always get a little moody right before they get engaged. Just let her be." In all these years, it was the first time she had ever told someone to "let me be." Unfortunately, it was way too late. Before walking out the door, I went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Stuck to the fridge was a crayon drawing of our family Chloe made when she was little. Dad, Mom, and Chloe. In the bottom corner was a tiny, poorly drawn stick figure. I had drawn that myself the year I was five, right after my parents finally brought me back from my grandparents' house in the country. My mom had laughed at it. "Why did Maya draw herself so tiny?" I didn't know the answer back then. But maybe, even at five years old, I realized that there wasn't much room left for me on that piece of paper. I finished the water and walked toward the front door. Chloe chased me to the entryway, yelling, "Maya, you have to be back by 6:00 PM! I prepared something massive for tonight!" My dad chimed in. "Take it easy on her, don't make her cry again." "Making her cry is the fun part!" As the door clicked shut, I heard Ethan say with a laugh, "Don't worry. She couldn't bear to miss it." Standing in the hallway, I suddenly smiled. He was right. I used to not be able to bear it. I couldn't bear to leave my parents. I couldn't bear to leave my sister. And I definitely couldn't bear to leave the man who had been by my side for seven years. So every time they stuck a knife in me, I made excuses for them. Mom was just playing favorites, Dad was just emotionally stunted, Chloe was just being playful. Ethan was just trying to bond with my family. I justified the actions of every single person in that house. The only person whose pain I never justified was my own. The Uber was waiting downstairs. The driver loaded my suitcase into the trunk. "Airport?" he asked. The team in New York had already texted me, letting me know my desk was set up and asking if I wanted to grab late-night tacos when I landed. On the way to the airport, my mom sent me a voice memo. "Pick up two boxes of pecan pie on your way back. Your dad loves the ones from the bakery downtown." Two minutes later, Chloe texted me. "Maya, get five boxes! Ethan wants some too." Followed by a begging dog emoji. I didn't reply. As I was pulling up to the terminal, Ethan finally called. "Where did you run off to?" The background was loud. Chloe was asking him where she should hide a GoPro. I stared out the window at the passing cars. "I have errands to run." Ethan let out an exasperated sigh. "Are we still playing this game? Alright, sweetie, you made your point. Come home early tonight, Chloe spent all afternoon setting up. If you ruin the prank, she's going to be so disappointed." Until the very last second. His biggest concern was that Chloe would be disappointed. I sat in silence for a few seconds. "Ethan." "Yeah?" "It's nothing." I hung up the phone. And then I blocked his number. When my flight took off, the sky was just beginning to turn dark. A massive, brilliant moon slowly rose above the New York skyline as we descended. The family group chat was still popping off. Mom asked who was going to pick up the pies. Dad complained he was hungry. Chloe started a poll in the chat: "What time is Maya going to surrender and come home?" Ethan voted for 7:00 PM. Dad voted for 7:30 PM. Mom was the most conservative, voting for 8:00 PM. I stared at the poll for a minute. Then, I left the group chat. And powered off my phone.
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