Chapter 1
Before I got off work on Thanksgiving, my younger sister said in the family group chat that our dad had a heart attack and sent a location.
I followed the navigation and switched four intercity buses to get there.
At the end was an unfinished building that had been shut down and had no power.
Then my younger sister video-called me.
"Thanksgiving prank successful. The last bus has stopped running. Let's see what you do now!" she exclaimed.
I stood there while my parents munched on snacks in front of the screen.
"You actually believed that? Can't believe I have such a dumb daughter," my dad said.
"We're going to have a family reunion dinner. You can walk back by yourself to build up your courage," my mom said.
After saying that, they hung up.
The temperature dropped, and my stomach twisted in pain.
With only one percent battery left, I called my fiancé.
My younger sister picked up and put me on speaker.
My fiancé said, "Your mom says you're always causing trouble and need to be taught a lesson. Stop calling and ruining our Thanksgiving night."
The screen went black.
In the past, I would have borrowed a stranger's phone and begged them to take me home.
But this time, I stood there, numb, staring at the city lights in the distance.
My younger sister loved Thanksgiving pranks, and the whole family played along.
The year before last, she shredded my client's blueprints, costing me three months' salary in compensation.
Last year, she told everyone at a dinner party that I'd had five abortions, which led to my fiancé breaking off the engagement.
This year, knowing I was night-blind, the whole family left me stranded in an unfinished building with no power.
They were betting at the dinner table that I would call and beg for forgiveness in a few minutes.
I brushed the lime off my pants and turned to walk down the mountain road.
I buried the pushover in me right here tonight.
*****
Less than five minutes after my phone died, my mom called me on my work wristband.
The wristband could only answer calls, and the sound was choppy.
I could hear dishes clattering and Emily laughing in the background.
"Where are you? There's a pile of dishes in the kitchen. Wash them when you get back. Relatives are coming for dinner tomorrow morning, so don't screw things up," said my mom.
She never asked if I was hurt or if there were any lights on the mountain road.
I felt my way along the guardrail. My shoe hit a loose rock, which nearly sent me off the side.
I gripped the cold iron guardrail, waiting for my vision to steady. "Mom, I can't see the road."
"The road is wide. Follow it, and you'll be fine," she said as she snacked, sounding totally relaxed. "Emily was only playing around with you.
"She's so timid that she won't touch a bug normally. It's rare for her to act this lively, so as her big sister, don't ruin her fun."
I had been hearing that line for twenty-six years.
Emily was so timid, so when she took scissors to my blueprints, it was only because she was curious.
Emily was timid, so when she started spreading rumors about my private life at dinner, it was only to avoid awkward silence.
Emily was timid, so when she lured me out to some unfamiliar mountain, somehow she ended up being the one who needed protection.
"I'm not coming back tonight," I said.
There was a brief silence on the other end.
My dad said something, and my mom quickly raised her voice. "Where are you going to stay if you don't come back?
"Don't think you can throw a tantrum and expect someone to comfort you. The wedding planning agency is coming to the house tomorrow to go over the details. Aren't you taking your own wedding seriously?"
"The schedule's on the second shelf of the sideboard."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Literally."
My wristband was down to its last bar. I ended the call, went into the family group chat, and canceled the grocery delivery subscription.
Every Saturday morning, veggies, milk, and low-sugar bread for my dad got delivered to the house.
For four years, the money came straight out of my account.
No one ever bothered to ask who was placing the orders. The only time they called me was when something was the wrong flavor.
Then a pop-up told me the subscription would end next month.
I hit confirm.
Twenty minutes later, a road maintenance truck rounded the bend.
When the headlights hit me, I instinctively shut my eyes and leaned back against the guardrail.
The truck was driven by a husband and wife working the night shift.
When they heard I was stranded, they didn't ask any questions. They only helped me climb in.
"You can text me on holidays from now on," I said. "If I have time, I'll reply. If you want to meet, ask in advance. Don't show up at my place. Don't try to meddle in my life. Don't drag me into anything about Emily."
The cup had a faint ginger scent. I took a couple of sips, and the cramping in my stomach slowly eased.
The maintenance station had nothing but an old couch.
The woman on duty found a charger, but the plug was loose. She crouched down and wrapped it up with tape a couple of times.
When my phone turned on, there were already over ninety-nine messages in the family group chat.
Emily had posted an ugly photo of me, and my dad sent her two laughing emojis.
My mom asked in the group chat, "So who lost the bet? She hasn't given in for ten minutes."
My fiancé, Jason Grant, replied, "You know her best, Mrs. Turner. She'd never fall out with the family."
I stared at the screen for a long time. I didn't bother to take a screenshot or say anything.
They laid it out there, and I didn't need to explain myself anymore.
The woman on duty brought over a plate of spaghetti and handed me a fork. "Is your family coming to pick you up?"
I opened the team group chat for the wedding planning agency, removed myself from the shared schedule, and called off all pickup plans for the 24 relatives. "No, they're not coming."