At my company’s annual party, I was lucky enough to win an iPad. Overjoyed, I rushed home to tell my mom. The next morning, my sister-in-law, Dora, knocked on my door. “Hey, could you give that iPad to your nephew, Mark? He’s been needing one for his studies, online classes, and assignments. You know how it is. You don’t have kids, anyway, so it’s not like you’ll need it. Just hand it over, okay?” I refused. What I didn’t expect was the entire family turning against me over a single iPad. “You’re living off this family after your divorce, and you can’t even spare a free iPad for your nephew?” “Ungrateful brat! Good-for-nothing freeloader!” “I’m not your brother anymore. Get out of this house!” Later, I did move out, but they begged me pitifully, asking me to come back. “Emily, you know how hard your brother works. Mark just started high school this year, and the academic pressure is immense. We don’t have extra money for tutoring classes. That iPad would be perfect for him; it’s great for online courses and practice exercises,” Dora said, gripping my hand with a face full of earnestness. I hesitated. “But I need it, too…” “What could you possibly need it for?” she interrupted, patting the back of my hand dismissively. “Watching videos? Scrolling through apps? You can do all that on your phone, can’t you? Mark is at a critical stage in his education. Shouldn’t his aunt give him a little support?” The iPad I won at the company’s annual party was the latest model, one I’d been wanting for a long time but couldn’t afford. I wasn’t about to hand it over without good reason. “Dora, why don’t you check second-hand platforms? You can find good tablets for a fraction of the price,” I suggested. “What?” Her eyes widened, appalled. “His classmates all have the newest models. How do you expect him to hold his head high with some second-hand junk? He’s a boy; his pride would be crushed!” She shot me a withering glare. “Are you trying to embarrass your nephew on purpose?” Dora felt distressed that my brother worked too hard, yet when I recommended a cheaper one, she doubted my intentions. My patience snapped. “Then, buy him a new one yourself!” Her tone changed immediately. “Why should we spend money when there’s a perfectly good one sitting right here? It’d be such a waste! And anyway, you got it for free. Giving it to Mark wouldn’t cost you a dime. Don’t be so stingy. We’re family! “And look at you now—divorced, no husband, no kids. When you’re old, you’ll have to rely on Mark, anyway!” I laughed coldly, “I’ll pass.” Then, I slammed my bedroom door in her face and left for work.
After my divorce, I moved back to my parents’ house, thinking it would give me some support while juggling work and the legal battle. Dora, however, was less than thrilled. My old room had been turned into a storage space, and she was livid when I started clearing it out. “You don’t need all that space to sleep,” she snapped. “Why can’t the stuff stay where it is?” My room was the smallest in the house, and with all the clutter, there wasn’t even space to turn around. She was basically asking for trouble. But I had just moved back and didn’t want to argue, so I quietly cleaned up. Knowing my presence was an inconvenience, I offered to contribute some money every month as a sort of “board”. Dora feigned modesty. “Oh, don’t be silly, you’re family. What’s money between us?” When I insisted, her attitude flipped. “Well, if it puts your mind at ease, I’ll take it. You just focus on being happy here. I’ll make sure to cook all your favorite dishes!” Two months later, she was complaining at the dinner table about rising grocery prices and her chronic back pain from “doing everything in this house”. One night, while everyone else was watching TV in the living room, she decided to pick a fight. “Mark’s interest classes cost money, you know,” she grumbled. When my brother didn’t cough up the cash, she turned on him. “This house has so many mouths to feed, and you barely bring anything in! I can’t even buy myself a new dress! How did I end up marrying such a useless man? “You’re all nothing but parasites! I must’ve been cursed in my last life to be your servant!” Before she could continue, my brother slapped her across the face. Dora froze, then burst into wails loud enough to shake the walls. “Enough!” My dad slammed his cup down, shattering it. Dora stopped crying, startled. “If you don’t like it here, then leave!” he barked. Dora was about to cry again, but before she could speak, I stepped in. “Dora, I know it’s hard on you. You’ve done so much for this family. I’ll chip in an extra five hundred dollars a month. It’s not much, but it’s something.” That finally calmed her down. My dad shot me a look of disdain. “Ever since you came back, this house has been nothing but trouble. You ruined your husband’s life, and now, you’re ruining ours. Jinx.” He’d never liked me. He thought daughters were liabilities to be married off. My divorce only confirmed his belief, and he never missed an opportunity to remind me of it. Feeling guilty for causing “trouble”, I went out the next day and bought groceries, seafood, and gifts for everyone to smooth things over. But their attitudes didn’t change. Other than my mom occasionally speaking to me, the rest of the family treated me like an unwelcome guest, except when they needed me to pay for something. The summer camp my nephew attended came out of my pocket. I spent a lot of my savings on hiring a lawyer. By the time I realized living there cost more than renting my own place, it was too late. Every penny I spent seemed to benefit them, while I was left with nothing but resentment. Looking back, Dora’s tantrum over my brother’s income was just a ploy. The only one who ended up losing in that situation was me.
After work, I didn’t head straight home. The morning’s confrontation with Dora had left me unwilling to see her for a while. Instead, I called my mom to let her know I’d be late and not to wait for me for dinner. Growing up, my dad ruled the household with an iron fist. When my brother got older, he naturally took on the role of second-in-command. I always thought my mom and I were on the same team. She was soft-spoken, meek, and never had much say in anything. When my brother dropped out of middle school, I’d often come home from school to find him and my dad sprawled on the couch, watching TV or playing video games. Cigarette butts, snacks, and fruit peels littered the floor. Meanwhile, my mom bustled around the house cleaning up after them. She’d sweep the floor, ask them to toss their trash into the bin, and then head to the kitchen to cook. By the time she came back, the place would already be a mess again. I felt sorry for her. Whenever I had time, I’d help with the chores. When my dad hit her, I’d step in between them, trying to shield her, hoping she could have a better life. When I won the iPad, I shared my excitement only with her, making her promise not to tell anyone else. Yet, the next morning, Dora knew. That evening, my mom called to check if I’d be working late. Frustrated, I asked, “Mom, didn’t I tell you not to mention the iPad? How does Dora already know?” She hesitated for a moment before replying meekly, “Oh, last night when you told me, she might’ve overheard a bit. And then she asked me about it this morning…” I snapped, “You could’ve made something up! Now she’s hounding me for it. What am I supposed to do?” “I’m sorry, Emily,” she murmured. “I didn’t think it through. She said Mark needed it for his studies, so I told her…” Despite my repeated warnings, she’d sold me out. I was so angry I could feel it in my chest. For a moment, I said nothing. After a brief silence, she tentatively added, “Emily, if you’re not using it, maybe you could give it to your nephew. Dora can be hard to deal with, but Mark’s studies shouldn’t suffer…” Mark, whose school performance was consistently at the bottom of his class, who was frequently called out for parent-teacher meetings. Suddenly his academic future depended on my iPad as if it were his golden ticket to Harvard or Yale. I hung up, unwilling to argue further. When I finally got home, the house was unusually quiet. This was around the time my nephew was supposed to be in bed, though he often stayed up late, glued to the TV or his phone. Most nights, his resistance would spark loud arguments with his mother in the living room. But tonight, only my parents were there. My brother and his family were nowhere in sight. I retreated to my room, determined to list my iPad for sale online. My finances were tight, and although I’d been wavering between keeping it for myself or selling it for extra cash, Dora’s antics had helped me make up my mind. I opened the drawer of my desk, only to find the iPad missing. It was gone.
My desk drawer had a lock, but it had been so long since I used it that the key was nowhere to be found. I figured it was safe enough at home, so I left for work without a second thought. Yet now, the iPad was gone. My first thought was Dora. Ever since moving back, I’d noticed things mysteriously disappearing, such as half-used skincare products, makeup, clothes I didn’t wear often, face masks, and snacks. These weren’t expensive items, so I decided to let it slide to avoid unnecessary drama. But now, she had the audacity to take something as valuable as my iPad? Fury coursed through me as I stormed out of my room to confront her. My brother was out drinking with friends, leaving Dora and my nephew lounging on their bed. When I barged in, her first instinct was to push the iPad down behind her and her son, but we were too close, and I’d already seen it clearly. “You don’t even knock before coming in?” Dora fired the first shot. I shot back. “And when have you ever knocked before entering my room?” “What kind of attitude is that? Don’t forget who’s house you’re living in!” she snapped. “You eat our food, use our things, and I practically slave away for you every day. No woman would put up with this from her husband’s sister. “And you still live with your parents? If I were you, I’d rather be crashed by a car!” I couldn’t believe the audacity. These tiny houses in the area rented for maybe a thousand dollars tops, yet I was paying her two thousand dollars a month just for the “privilege” of being treated like dirt. “This is my home,” I shouted back. “And I have every right to stay here, even if I don’t pay a single cent!” “Your home?” Dora sneered. “Who do you think you are? No wonder your husband left you. Married for three years and couldn’t even pop out a kid! Women like you deserve to be barren!” What kind of backward, archaic mindset was this? She sounded like having a son was the pinnacle of human achievement, a prize to flaunt. I forced a cold laugh, trying to rein in my temper as I remembered the reason I came here. “I’m not here to argue. Just give me back the iPad.” Her guilty glance at the iPad confirmed my suspicion, but she retorted, “How do you know it’s yours? I bought this today! You see a tablet and go crazy? You’re delusional!” Her shamelessness was mind-boggling. I let out a slow, deliberate laugh before calmly pulling out my phone and called the police. “Every iPad has a unique serial number,” I said coolly. “I took a photo of it and posted it on my social media when I got it. You’d better stick to your story when the police arrive.” Her face twisted in panic as I was about to press the call button. She lunged at me, knocking the phone from my hand. It hit the ground with a sickening crack, the screen shattering on impact. She didn’t stop there. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, she screamed, “You dare call the cops? I’ll kill you!” Anger surged through me, and adrenaline gave me unexpected strength. I shoved her hard, sending her sprawling onto the edge of the bed. Seeing his mother fall, my nephew, who had been lounging like a lazy lion cub, suddenly sprang into action. Towering over me, he pointed a finger at my nose and yelled, “How dare you push my mom!” This boy, tall and burly for his age, had been sweet-talking me for money ever since I moved in. His “Auntie, you’re the best!” routine had always netted him fifty dollars here, fifty dollars there. I thought our relationship was decent, not close, but far from hostile. Yet here he was, fists clenched, ready to charge at me like a rabid dog. As he swung, my parents finally appeared in the doorway, drawn by the commotion. “Are you all out of your minds? I’m not dead yet!” my father roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. Dora, now fully recovered, darted to my parents, dramatically clutching her arm. “Look at what your precious daughter has done to me!” she wailed. “She pushed me, threatened to call the police, and claimed I stole her iPad! Call them! Let’s see who they take away, her for hitting me or me for doing absolutely nothing wrong!” Before I could open my mouth to defend myself, my father’s hand lashed out, a slap that landed squarely on my cheek. The force left me stunned, clutching my stinging face as my surroundings blurred. The room fell deathly silent. Even Dora, mid-sob, shut her mouth. My mother’s lips quivered as tears welled in her eyes, but I couldn’t hear her over the ringing in my ears. My father’s face was a mask of rage as he spat, “All you do is embarrassing me! If you cause one more problem, don’t bother coming back to this house!”
I had feared my father since childhood; his authority was absolute in our household. When he was younger, his temper was even more volatile, often waking me in the middle of the night with his yelling. He’d come home drunk, and if my mother so much as uttered a word of advice or took too long to answer the door, he’d grab her hair and shove her onto the couch to beat her. I never knew if other fathers were like this. Growing up, the way he looked at me was filled with hatred, but he lavished my brother with affection. When introducing my brother, he’d beam with pride, calling him “my son” even though my brother was a troublemaker with no redeeming qualities. As for me? Even though I consistently excelled in school, at home, I was treated like a servant to be ordered around. I rarely spoke to my father or looked him in the eye. I never resisted him, except for one instance when he hit my mother. I couldn’t stand it and threw myself over her. Now, hearing his angry command to stop, my instinct was to back down, just as I always had. But as I looked around at Dora’s smug face, my hateful nephew, my father’s heaving chest, and my mother’s tear-streaked, helpless expression, I felt an overwhelming wave of disgust. Closing my eyes, I pushed down all my resentment and pain, speaking as calmly as I could. “It was Dora who took my iPad first.” Dora immediately shrieked, “There she goes again! Still lying through your teeth at a time like this! Does it have your name on it? How dare you. You’re trying to scam me because you’re desperate!” I let out a sneer. “You know exactly who’s scamming who. Are you absolutely sure you bought this iPad today?” “Of course!” She shot back. “Good. Then, I can rest easy,” I replied, my tone laced with sarcasm. “If I prove it’s mine, what are you prepared to do?” Dora faltered, glancing at the upturned iPad, then straightened her posture with feigned confidence. “What do you want?” “You’ll bow and apologize, then compensate me for a new iPad and phone at full price.” “Why should I?” Dora roared, her face red with anger. My father, feeling his authority undermined, barked, “I told you to stop this nonsense!” His barely contained fury made me flinch instinctively, but today, I wasn’t going to back down. “You said you bought it this morning. So, why are you afraid? Guilty conscience?” “Afraid? Of what?” Dora spat, her voice dripping with defiance. She turned to my dad and added, “Look at her! She wants me to kneel! Who does she think she is? No manners at all!” The last four words hit my father like a slap in the face. His expression turned a mix of green and white as he glanced at Dora, his gaze tinged with displeasure. Dora, oblivious to his reaction, continued her relentless verbal assault on me. Annoyed, I interrupted her tirade, “Wanna bet? If I can’t prove it’s mine, I’ll pay you ten times the price.” To ensure she understood, I added, “This model costs nearly five thousand dollars on the official website. Ten times means fifty thousand dollars. Are you in or not?” Dora hesitated for a moment, but the mention of fifty thousand dollars made her eyes gleam with greed.
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