A moment later my father took the phone from her. His voice carried irritation instead of concern. “Do not start an argument about this because if you really loved your sister you would not have rushed to get married before her.”
For a second I thought I had misunderstood what he said. “What did you just say.”
“You heard me,” he replied. “Kayla is younger and she deserves her spotlight first.”
Logan’s hand closed around mine while heat rushed to my face, a mixture of disbelief and humiliation that made it difficult to breathe.
“So you are telling me that you are not coming to my wedding,” I said slowly.
My father answered without hesitation. “We might stop by for a few minutes if the timing works, but we already promised Kayla that we would be at her engagement party.”
I ended the call before my voice could break. Logan wrapped his arms around me, yet the ache inside my chest refused to soften because the pain came from something deeper than a missed event.
It came from realizing that my parents had chosen my sister without even pretending to struggle with the decision.
The wedding day arrived beneath perfect Arizona sunlight, yet the first row of chairs felt painfully empty. My best friend walked me down the aisle instead of my father while my mother never saw the dress I had spent months choosing.
Kayla filled her social media all day with smiling photos from her engagement party while my parents appeared beside her in every picture looking delighted and proud.
I married Logan anyway because love does not require approval from people who refuse to give it.
Three days later the consequences arrived.
I stopped at a grocery store after work and tried to pay for a basket of food, but my debit card declined. Thinking it was a mistake I walked to the ATM outside the store, yet that card was blocked as well.
When I opened my banking application the message was impossible to ignore.
My accounts had been frozen.
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