As if I were the ungrateful one—the daughter too foolish to see her mother's good intentions.
I said nothing and shut the bedroom door.
The thought gnawed at me all night, shredding any hope of real sleep. My mother's face flickered behind my eyelids, then my aunt's, both blurred and shifting like figures in a fever dream.
The next morning, my mother's voice dragged me out of a fitful doze.
"Irene, get up! Aunt Grace and her family are here."
I opened the door with dark circles carved under my eyes, my face drawn and pale.
And froze.
There, on the sofa, sitting right beside my cousin, was my ex-boyfriend.
Stella Acevedo rose gracefully and gestured toward him with an easy smile.
"Irene, this is my boyfriend, Rhys Gilbert. Turns out you two went to the same school!"
Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to think.
Sophomore year.
I'd been working three jobs to scrape together tuition, running myself so ragged that my blood sugar crashed and I collapsed. Rhys Gilbert happened to be passing by. Without a word, he'd scooped me onto his back and carried me to the campus clinic.
After that, we started dating.
Six months later, he graduated and left the country to study abroad. I knew the gap between us was too wide, so I was the one who ended it.
Now, two years later, he was my cousin's boyfriend.
Rhys extended his hand, his smile polite and distant. "Nice to meet you."
The taut wire that had been holding me together finally snapped.
Bitterness surged up my throat. Even breathing hurt—a dull, spreading ache behind my ribs.
I couldn't bring myself to take his hand. "Excuse me—I need to go wash up."
I fled to the bathroom, scooped cold water over my face again and again until the shock receded enough for me to think straight.
Then the doorbell rang.
"Irene, go see who that is!" my mother called.
I opened the front door. Joel Lambert stood on the step, a bag of groceries in each hand, grinning at me like an idiot.
My mother rushed over and took the bags from him. "Joel! Come in, come in."
She turned to the room, beaming. "Everyone, let me introduce you—this is Irene's fiancé. They're getting married in a few days."
"He's an incredible cook. I invited him over specifically to handle the kitchen for us today."
Joel bared a mouthful of yellowed teeth. "You're too kind, ma'am. I'm nothing special—just know my way around a few home-cooked dishes."
"Oh, stop being modest! You're the go-to chef for every big banquet in the village. Our Irene is going to eat well for the rest of her life."
The air went still.
Every pair of eyes in the room locked onto me—surprise, confusion, mockery, contempt—each gaze a needle driven straight through my skin.
I held myself upright by sheer force of will, enduring the humiliation as it carved into me piece by piece.
A flicker of shock crossed Rhys's eyes, but it dissolved almost instantly into something colder. Derision.
I dug my nails so deep into my palms that the pain was the only thing keeping me from breaking apart.
Stella's eyes went wide. "Irene? This… old man is your fiancé?"
My mother feigned a scowl. "Stella, don't talk about your future brother-in-law like that. He's not even fifty yet."
Joel let out an awkward laugh. "That's right—forty-nine. Still got a month to go. Anyway, you all chat. I'll get started on the food."
"See?" My mother swept a hand toward his retreating back. "That's the kind of man you want—hardworking, no games, no nonsense."
She gave me a shove. "Go on. Help Joel in the kitchen."
Through the haze clouding my vision, I caught it—the faintest curl of satisfaction at the corner of my mother's lips.
The color drained from my face. My feet might as well have been nailed to the floor. I couldn't move. I wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
Grace couldn't sit still any longer. She shot to her feet.
"Vivian, a child's marriage isn't something to treat lightly. As parents, we have a responsibility to make sure it's right."
"Irene graduated from a top university. She could have her pick of anyone. Why on earth would you set her up with—"
My mother cut her off without a shred of hesitation. "This is our family's business. Besides, Irene agreed to it herself."
