Chapter 4

Liana's POV

After wrapping up the last bit of work on my plate, I headed home.

To my surprise, Mom and Dad were sitting in the living room with Mona beside them.

I instinctively glanced toward the bedroom. My packed luggage was tucked behind the door, safely out of sight.

"How did you get in?" I asked.

Only Weston and I knew the keycode to the front door.

"Never mind how we got in," Mom cut me off, her words tumbling out fast and frantic. "What's gotten into you? Mona says you don't want your wedding dress anymore. That custom dress took three months to make, and the wedding is only a month away. Where are you supposed to get another one now?"

"We've already sent out all the invitations," Dad chimed in. "All our friends and relatives know the date. If we delay the wedding, what are people going to think of us?"

Having spent half their lives in poverty, they valued their pride more than anything. Even now that our lives were better, they still instinctively placed themselves beneath everyone else.

A sudden impulse rose in me. I wanted to try one last time.

"She tried on my wedding dress in front of Weston without asking me."

Mona snapped her head up. I could tell right then that she hadn't given Mom and Dad the full story.

Mom didn't even raise an eyebrow. "So she tried it on. It's not like anything happened to it. You're still the one wearing it at the wedding. Stop being so dramatic."

Her tone softened slightly. "You should be happy Weston treats your sister so well. It shows he cares about you."

Dad stubbed out his cigarette, his mouth pulling into a frown. "Did you really have to make an issue out of something so trivial? The banquet and wedding arrangements are already booked. If there's even a second's delay, we'll have to pay penalty fees, and we can't afford that."

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I should have known better than to hold on to any expectations.

Mom wanted to say more, but I didn't want to hear another word.

I stood up and caught sight of the bag sitting behind Mona—the same one she'd carried at the Sweethearts' Light Festival. Looking closer, I saw that a few of the sequins clearly didn't belong on it.

An ominous feeling hit me all at once.

I stumbled into the storage room. With trembling hands, I pulled my bag from the cabinet, still wrapped in its dust cover.

A whole row of sequins was missing, and the rest dangled loosely from broken threads.

Mona stood in the doorway, her lips trembling, but her eyes never left my ruined bag.

"The sequins on my bag came off," she said. "Mom didn't want me spending money on a new one, so she offered to fix it for me. Weston remembered you had an old bag you never use. It was just going to waste anyway, and the different colors actually worked really well on mine. He gave us the keycode. Since you weren't home yet, we just went ahead and got started."

She looked at me, her voice soft with practiced innocence. "Liana, you won't blame me for this, right?"

That sequined bag was a gift I'd bought myself when I came of age.

It wasn't a designer brand. In fact, the craftsmanship was pretty rough. But it was the first thing that had ever truly belonged to me.

None of them knew I loved bright, vibrant colors. They made me feel like there was still something to hope for.

Between work and dating, I rarely had a chance to carry it, but whenever I felt down, I would sit in my room with it. Even through the dust cover, I could feel my strength returning.

And now, without so much as asking me, they'd torn pieces off it to patch up something else.

I slapped Mona hard across the face.

Weston walked in right at that moment. He dropped the bags, shoved me away, and cupped Mona's face tenderly.

The look he shot me was cold and hard. "No matter what happens, you don't get to hit someone. Especially not your sister."

My knee slammed hard into the corner of the table, sending a sharp jolt of pain all the way up to my head.

Yet, I burst out laughing. "She keeps touching my things without permission. Doesn't she deserve to be slapped?"

"I took it. I tore it apart. What, are you going to hit me too?"

Mom rushed in at the commotion, pulling Mona into her arms and wiping the corners of her eyes. "You used to be so sensible. How did you turn into such a raving lunatic? Weston spoiled you far too much."

Dad leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "Cut out the attitude. If you piss Weston off, we can't afford that kind of money."

Mom and Dad left with Mona, and Weston hurried after them to see them out.

…

Day faded into night, and night turned back into day.

I wheeled my luggage out of the bedroom and spotted a pink sequined bag sitting on the table. It was prettier than mine and from a designer brand.

I didn't touch it. Instead, I left my key on the entryway cabinet and pulled the door shut behind me.

A text from Weston came in. "Did you see the bag on the table? Mona ruined yours, so I bought you a replacement on her behalf. Stop throwing a fit. We're family."

I powered off my phone.

The plane took off. As I gazed out at the endless layers of clouds, I felt a sense of freedom I'd never known before.