My Wife's Brother Complex

I always thought my wife was just an ordinary "brother-loving sister," the kind who would do anything for her brother.

But one night, I watched in frozen horror as she dismembered her brother in our storage room.

Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned and looked straight at me.

She flashed her usual gentle smile.

"Honey," she called softly, her voice sweet and familiar—exactly the same as always.

My name is Ross Anders. I'm an ordinary guy, and just a few months ago, I met a beautiful girl and we got married quickly.

Her name is Lily Parker. Just like her name, she is stunningly beautiful and coldly aloof. Honestly, I don't think I deserve her.

When she first said she wanted to marry me, I was so overjoyed that I couldn't sleep.

I'd spent years working hard, building up enough to buy a house, and I decided to give her half of it because all I want is to build a life with her. But as always, things don't go as planned.

When her brother, Finn, entered our lives, everything changed.

At first, it was just small favors—helping him out here and there—but soon it turned into moral blackmail. He needed money for school, so I gave it. He got into a fight and needed to pay for damages, so I covered it. He didn't have a job, so I did my best to find him one.

It never ended. He attached himself to me like a leech, draining everything he could. Over time, I realized: isn't he just a typical example of the 'brother-pampering' syndrome and a parasite?

And then, just a few days ago, Finn finally proposed.

Lily was thrilled. She took credit for his success, claiming it was all her hard work that made it happen.

She turned to me, beaming with excitement. "Darling, my brother's getting married soon. But the bride's family won't agree to the marriage without a house. We still have that empty one, right? Why don't we give it to him?"

It wasn't a suggestion; it was a decree. She wasn't asking; she was telling me what had already been decided. She was informing me, as though I had no say in the matter.

I didn't answer immediately.

Lily's expression shifted, and she raised her voice. "You're giving it to him today, whether you like it or not! He's getting married and has nowhere to live. What's wrong with letting him have that extra house?"

That house—my parents' lifelong effort—was all they had worked for. I didn't want to touch it. They had left it to me and returned to the countryside, so that I could rent it out to ease my financial burden.

Now that they're gone, I want to keep it as a memory, something to hold on to.

But Lily wasn't listening. She wasn't even trying to understand.

In a fit of frustration, I stood up. "If you want to hand it over to him, you're ruining him. He's useless, and you're enabling him."

The words barely left my mouth when Lily threw her bowl down. The ceramic smashed loudly on the floor. The kitchen was suddenly a mess of shards.

Her hands were on her hips as she pointed at our house, the one we considered a symbol of our life together.

"This house is joint property. Even if we get divorced, I'm taking my half to give it to my brother to buy a place," she declared.

I was shaking, fury coursing through me. She would divorce me for her brother?

"Fine! Let's divorce, then!" My anger flared, and I wasn't backing down. This house, which had once held love and laughter, was now a battleground for our bitter fights.

She cried. Loud, heart-wrenching sobs. Her finger pointed at me accusingly, her voice thick with emotion. "You're heartless! When you had nothing, I stayed by your side. And now, when I say I want a divorce, you're ready to walk away?"

I knew she was manipulating me. She knew how much I loved her, and she was using it against me.

As she cried, I felt my anger fading, replaced by a deep ache.

I shouldn't be angry. I shouldn't let her push me into a corner. I had to talk to her, to make her understand.

I reached for her, pulling her small frame into my arms.

She rested her head against my chest, her soft hair brushing my face, the familiar scent of her soothing my nerves.

"Baby, listen. The problem is, your brother still doesn't have a job," I murmured gently. "Let's help him find a job first. We can worry about the house later."

I rubbed her back, trying to calm her, and the soft rhythm of my hand against her spine was a small comfort.

"Okay." Her voice was unexpectedly quiet.

A wave of helplessness washed over me. I loved Lily, but I couldn't be a fool. I couldn't just keep giving in to her and her brother.

I'd thought about it. Maybe I should just go ahead and buy him the house. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized—it would never end. Once I gave him the house, there would be more requests. And I'd be stuck, trapped in this endless cycle.

"Darling," Lily whispered softly, her voice almost a plea as she looked up at me. "Help him find a job, then. And if he manages to turn things around?"

Her eyes were full of hope, but there was also something else—a vulnerability that tugged at me. She was asking me to believe in him, in her brother. She looked at me with those teary eyes, and for a moment, I felt my resolve cracking.

"Alright. If he works hard, I'll help him with the house." I sighed, my heart heavy with the weight of the decision.

In the end, I couldn't say no. Part of me held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, Finn would change. Maybe he wouldn't continue to drain us dry.