My Sister's Fiance
“You’re working even at your sister’s party.”
“I’m a programmer. I don’t actually live,” I answered flatly.
In the center of the ballroom, Fiona looked like an ad for happiness. Her dress was ivory, not a wedding gown but definitely enough to make it clear she was in the phase of not caring who was jealous. She laughed brightly, hugged aunts, greeted guests, and every now and then waved at me from across the room like, look at me, sis, I’m happy.
And I lifted my hand and waved back with a thin smile.
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