Chapter 3

Maisie had also assumed all along that the person she was getting engaged to would be Arlo.

Clenching my jaw, I threw every gift Maisie had given me over our three years together into the trash, from the clothes to the stuffed animals to the cologne.

Mom walked in, ignored my red-rimmed eyes, and took Grandma's pearl necklace from my drawer.

I stood up to stop her. "That's mine! Grandma left it to me!"

"Yours, his, what's the difference?" Mom frowned. "Arlo needs it for the wedding. He's your own brother. Family doesn't keep track of what belongs to who."

Family did not keep track. I almost laughed.

Whenever Arlo used my things, nobody kept track of anything. Yet whenever I touched anything of his, even something as small as a pen, I got a finger jabbed in my face and an earful.

In the end, it only ever meant everyone helping Arlo take what was mine, until nothing in this house truly belonged to me. Even this room was not safe. They wanted to take it for him too.

Mom had barely left when Dad came in. He looked around my room and frowned. "Your room gets good light, and it's big. Arlo needs space to get ready for the wedding, so give him your room and move into the guest room."

I looked at him. "Dad, this is my room."

"Your room?" Dad said impatiently. "Is there a single thing in this house I didn't pay for? You'll sleep wherever I tell you to. Arlo's wedding is a big deal. Can't you give him a little leeway?"

"I've been giving him leeway for over 20 years," I said.

Dad froze for a moment, and then his face darkened. "Jude, what's with that attitude? I ask you to move rooms, and you start keeping score with me? I raised you, and this is how you talk to me?"

I did not argue any further.

Arguing was useless. In this house, Arlo was always right.

I started packing my things.

At some point, Lorna had appeared in the doorway. She came in and picked up a box. "Let me help."

"Lorna, do you think this family would be better off without me?" I asked suddenly.

She paused. After a long moment, she frowned at me. "Don't talk nonsense. If Arlo hears you say things like that, he'll take it to heart.

"Don't put him in a bad mood."

Arlo again. It seemed like everything about me had to step aside for Arlo.

I curled up on the bed in the guest room and hugged my knees.

It was fine. In six more days, I would be bound to the spirit of that mountain as her husband. When that day came, I would give up my family and the woman I loved.

With that thought in mind, I fell into a deep sleep.

For the next few days, the house was as hectic as a war zone. People from the wedding planning company came and went, along with wave after wave of photographers and florists.

My old room was turned into a temporary dressing room, its floor covered in sample suits and decorations.

Every day, Arlo stood in front of the mirror in a different suit, turning this way and that. Mom fussed over his collar beside him, Dad snapped pictures on his phone, and Lorna coordinated everything else.

They were one big happy family.

Meanwhile, I had been put in the dark, damp guest room, and my only job each day was to stay out of the way.

The housekeeper who brought my meals looked at me with sympathy, yet she did not dare say a word.

On the third night, I realized I could no longer taste anything.

I chewed the pot roast on my plate for a long time, but all I could make out was a vague greasiness. I could not tell salty from sweet, savory, or spicy.

I set down my fork. I understood then that "leave everything behind" did not only mean leaving my family behind. It meant everything that made me human.

On the fourth day, my hearing began to fade.

My family's voices sounded muffled, as if they were coming through a thick layer of water. Unless I listened carefully, I could not make out what they were saying at all.

On the fifth day, I stood on the balcony with the sunlight falling on me, yet I could not feel any of its warmth.