Then my mother’s:
“Listen to your sister. You’ll ruin the atmosphere.”
Then my father’s:
“Allison’s day matters more. Don’t show up.”
The room froze.
Guests stared. Some shook their heads. Whispers rose—loud and unmistakable.
Allison’s color drained.
“Emily, how could you—”
“How could I?” I echoed softly. “How could you?”
Jason stepped forward, devastated.
“Allison… did you really say those things?”
She clutched his arm. “Jason, don’t listen—she’s twisting it—”
I met his gaze.
“I’m not twisting anything. I’m just done being silent.”
Jason gently freed his arm. His parents exchanged uneasy looks.
“Allison,” he said, voice breaking, “a wedding should be about love. Compassion. If this is how you treat your own sister…”
He shook his head.
“I can’t marry someone who believes cruelty is normal.”
Allison panicked.
“Jason, please—she’s lying—it was a joke—Jason!”
But it was over.
