When Love Comes Only After Death

On Thanksgiving Eve, my mother, Jill Turner, prepared a lavish feast. The whole family gathered around the table, and the atmosphere was warm and lively.

As fireworks lit up the sky outside, my family raised their glasses for a round of toasts.

They toasted my sister's career, my father's prosperity, my mother's good health, and my younger brother's upcoming marriage.

Not a single toast was for me. In fact, no one even remembered that a member of the family was missing.

Then, my mother's phone rang.

I was calling in a desperate attempt to ask for help, but Mom merely glanced at the screen with an icy expression before impatiently rejecting my call.

Meanwhile, I lay on the cold ground as my last shred of hope slipped away.

I was dead.

I had died on Thanksgiving Eve—the night my entire family had gathered at home to celebrate.

…

After my death, my soul returned home.

After dinner, my family gathered in the living room to watch TV and discuss my younger brother Rupert Murphy's upcoming wedding. In the middle of the conversation, Rupert's eyes suddenly grew misty.

"I want to invite Terence to the wedding, but he probably still resents me. What should I do?" he cried.

My father, Lawrence Murphy, scoffed. "Don't worry about that. We'll drag him there if we have to!"

"Exactly. Why is he being so petty about a woman?" my sister, Hannah Murphy, added, unable to understand my thought process.

Mom sighed, looking upset. "He's always giving me something to worry about. When I was pregnant with the twins, the doctors said he survived by taking all the nutrients from his twin brother. Why does he have to be so greedy?"

There it was again.

I'd heard those words countless times growing up. It was a sin I'd been burdened with from the moment I was born.

Whenever the topic was brought up, Hannah and my parents would glare at me with resentment. Even though I was just a child, they'd instinctively shut me out and stare at me as if I was a murderer.

Under the weight of their contempt, I had learned to live in constant fear and felt completely powerless. I yearned for their love, yet all I could do was watch as they adopted another boy.

They called Rupert "sweetie" and showered him with all the love and affection I had never received. Then, they expected me to make up for my so-called sins by giving him everything I had.

If he wanted something that I had, I was expected to hand it over no matter what. Nothing was off-limits. He could take anything from a pen or a toy to my scholarship, my spot in a competition, or even my fiancée.

Louisa Grant and I were classmates in graduate school. We connected from the moment we met, and before long, we'd fallen in love.

Like most college sweethearts, we should've had a loving relationship that would naturally lead to marriage after graduation. But in our third year of graduate school, Rupert got into the same university and became Louisa's junior.

He was always looking for excuses to ask Louisa for help. Whenever he was upset, he'd go straight to her without a second thought. He depended on her, admired her, and looked at her with undisguised affection.

As they grew closer, I eventually confronted them and told them to keep their distance. But to my dismay, they both insisted nothing was going on between them in perfect unison.

To prove her loyalty, Louisa even proposed to me.

I'd always wanted a family of my own. Plus, after all the years we've spent together, I still had feelings for her. So, I accepted her proposal.

Then, on our wedding day, Rupert showed up.