They Gave Our Home to My Sister, I Left

My sister, Jocelyn Weber, went into the kitchen, saw the plain dinner plates in the cabinet, and made a face.

"Solid colors are so boring. What terrible taste. These have to go."

She held out her phone to Garrett, showing him a photo.

"Garrett, I like plates with patterns like these. Aren't they so much prettier than those plain things?"

Garrett ruffled her hair indulgently.

"Then we'll change them. You always have great taste."

I stopped typing for a moment.

I watched him tell the workers to throw out every plate in the cabinet.

What a joke.

When the renovation started, he'd told me this would be my home and I could decorate it however I wanted.

I did it all myself, from the paint on the walls to the drains.

I'd even made the plates he'd just ordered them to throw away. I'd shaped each one by hand on the wheel at a pottery studio, then painted it myself.

Garrett had looked at the blisters on my hands as if seeing them hurt him.

He'd promised to take good care of the plates I'd made and treasure them.

But now all it took was for Jocelyn to say she didn't like them.

So he had the workers throw them out, just like that.

A message from Harold interrupted my thoughts.

"I'm flying home right now to pick you up. Wait for me."

I sent back one word, "Okay," and started thinking about what to take with me.

Garrett saw me staring at my phone and came over to put an arm around my shoulders.

"What are you looking at?"

I snapped out of it and quickly turned off the screen.

"Nothing. Just a work email."

Garrett could see I was flustered and clearly didn't believe me.

He reached for my phone to check it himself.

But Jocelyn spoke up behind us before he could take it. "What are you two talking about?"

She came over and casually slipped her arm through his, as though they were the couple.

"You look unhappy. Are you blaming me for ruining all your work on the house?"

She sounded innocent, but the look she gave me was smug.

That was the same innocent tone she used after taking something of mine.

Jocelyn knew I'd never dare make a scene. I'd swallow my anger and tell her it was nothing.

But I wasn't going to put up with it anymore.

"Yes. You ruined the home I worked so hard to put together."

That stopped her. She clearly hadn't expected me to say it out loud.

But she recovered quickly. Her eyes reddened, and she forced out a few tears.

"I only gave my opinion. Everyone agreed with it."

When she said everyone, she didn't mean me.

My mother came running over to scold me. "It's just decorating. You're being so petty, fighting with your own sister over this. You don't act like a werewolf at all."

My eyes stung as I watched her take Jocelyn's side without asking a single question.

When I was growing up, if there was one of something in our house, it was hers.

If there were two of them, they were both hers.

Only what she didn't want was mine.

And if I ever argued, I was the difficult one.

My father stood behind her, disgust written all over his face.

"You're a werewolf, and you cry this easily? You ought to be ashamed."

But my sister was crying too.

Why did one tear from her make everyone feel sorry for her?

All I ever got was that look of disgust.

I held the tears back and looked over at Garrett.

We'd loved each other for five years. Would seeing me cry hurt him even a little? Would he stand up for me?

But his eyes never left Jocelyn. He gently and patiently wiped away her tears without sparing me a glance.

He didn't seem to care that I was being scolded and treated unfairly.

I wiped the corner of my eye, turned, and walked out of that house.