My college-aged sister, Skylar, got pregnant out of wedlock, and she refused to name the father, insisting on keeping their “love child.” My heart ached for her, so young and already with a swollen belly. I brought her home, spoiling her with good food and endless care. It wasn’t until the day she was about to give birth that Skylar finally broke down in tears, confessing to everyone that the baby belonged to her and my husband, Brandon. What a massive scene that caused. Turns out, my entire family had just been using me as a free live-in maid. “Say that again. Whose baby is it?” Even in a sterile hospital gown, Skylar’s beautiful face couldn’t be hidden. She defiantly held her head high, tenderly stroking her heavily pregnant belly. Her voice choked as she pleaded with me to accept the child. She claimed the baby couldn’t be born without a father, and if I was truly her sister, I should put myself in her shoes and consider her feelings. “If news got out that the baby had no father, imagine how many people would gossip about me and the child behind our backs,” she whined. “You can’t be so heartless.” I stood there, silently listening to all her accusations, as if I were the one who had committed such a disgraceful act. A bitter ache twisted in my gut, leaving me frozen. For a moment, I had no idea how to react to the scene unfolding before me. My eyes desperately darted to my parents, who stood by the hospital bed, pleading for them to step in and set things right. But to my disbelief, even after Skylar pulled such a disgusting stunt, my parents’ first reaction was to tell *me*, the elder sister, to be more understanding. “Don’t stoop to her level,” they said. “There’s no hurdle you can’t overcome,” they insisted. “Just forgive your sister’s youthful ignorance.” Then they added, “Your mother and I are getting old. Skylar needs someone by her side. As her older sister, you need to take good care of her during her postpartum recovery, making sure she didn’t develop any lasting health issues. Those kind of recovery illnesses are a real pain to get rid of.” Their biased words pierced me like countless tiny needles, an insidious ache spreading through my chest. Because “the older sister always has to give in to the younger,” Skylar always managed to snatch everything I had without any effort, simply because she wanted it. When we were kids, our family was poor. We lived on humble meals like cabbage and tofu stew. Only once a month, when Dad got his paycheck, could we afford a roast chicken to improve our diet. But whenever it was time to divide the chicken, I always ended up with the dry, scrawny chicken head and the fatty tail piece. “Skylar is still young and growing, so the legs and wings are hers,” they’d say. “And your parents do manual labor every day, so the meatiest part of the body is for us to replenish our strength.” Even if Skylar couldn’t finish her portion, Mom never even thought about giving me a single bite. Instead, she’d meticulously debone the chicken, shred the meat, and mix it into Skylar’s rice for the next day. Even now, if there’s anything good to eat, Skylar is always the first one they think of. They always doted on Skylar, pampering her endlessly, while I was met with nothing but strictness. If Skylar struggled with her studies, our parents would spare no expense enrolling her in expensive tutoring classes. If I fell behind, I’d get yelled at, and sometimes even beaten with a belt, leaving me in so much pain I couldn’t sleep all night. Mom said girls needed to dress up from a young age, so she bought Skylar countless pretty dresses, changing them daily. When it was my turn, I was told to wear worn-out hand-me-downs from relatives’ kids. In my teens, I wanted to look good, so I begged a friend to do my makeup, and my parents would call me a tramp for it. I even wondered if Mom had somehow swapped us at the hospital. But it wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned my mother gave birth to me outside, not even making it to the hospital. It felt like my very birth condemned me to be inferior to my sister. Yet, they never admitted they played favorites. Whenever I asked them why they only loved Skylar and not me, they’d grab whatever was at hand and hit or curse at me. “Stop causing trouble!” they’d shout. “Have I done something wrong raising you? How could I have raised such an ungrateful wretch?” “When will you ever learn to be sensible? How old do you need to be to stop competing with your sister for attention?” Skylar stole my parents’ affection, she stole everything that should have been mine. But I never imagined she’d try to steal my place now. This time, I refused to endure it any longer. This rule, “the older must yield to the younger”—who the hell decided that?!
As I thought this, a fierce glint slowly appeared in my eyes. Skylar, seeing that I hadn’t come to coax her and wasn’t making any moves, peeked at me from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge my reaction. After all, ever since we were children, whenever our opinions differed, I was always the one to humble myself, coax her, and agree to all her unreasonable demands. She clearly thought I hadn’t heard her properly, so she slowly raised her voice and repeated, “Aria, you’re not still clinging to those old-fashioned, outdated ideas, are you? Only the unloved one is the third party! *You* should be the one to leave!” “You’re not worthy of my Brandon!” Honestly, right then, I really wanted to crack open her little head and see what kind of sludge was sloshing around in there. I never thought the phrase “What the hell is this?” would actually come out of my mouth. I lunged forward, grabbing handfuls of Skylar’s long, dark hair and tugging with all my might. No matter who tried to pull me off, they couldn’t separate me from her. Skylar probably never expected me to snap so violently; she hadn’t put up any defenses, leaving her completely blindsided. She could only let me unleash all the pent-up anguish of the past few days on her. I sat up, tears welling in my eyes, and yelled at her, “From childhood until now, tell me, what have I ever done to wrong you? I always let you have the best food, the best toys first.” “Do you know how terrified I was when I got that call from your college at three-thirty in the morning, telling me you were pregnant?!” “I took the earliest flight that very night to pick you up, barely sleeping a wink. I was so afraid you’d be too upset, so I climbed countless flights of stairs just to get your leave of absence sorted!” “I worried about you getting tired, so while you were nesting at my house, I wouldn’t let you lift a finger. All you had to do was lie in bed, extend your hand for food, open your mouth to eat, and enjoy everything I did for you!” “I daresay I’ve done more for you than your own parents, haven’t I? How dare you do this to me!” It was only then that a hint of panic appeared on Skylar’s delicate face. Seeing that I was genuinely furious, she started cursing at the onlookers, shouting, “What are you all staring at?! Pull this crazy woman off me! Why are you just standing there?! She’s insane!” Everyone around tried to tell me, “It’s not worth it, it’s not worth it,” but they were too afraid of getting hurt themselves to get close. It wasn’t until a familiar figure appeared in my line of sight that I slowly loosened my grip, giving Skylar a chance to scramble out of my grasp. I smoothed down my wild hair, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, forcing a stiff smile. “Mom, what are you doing here? I–” But before I could finish, Mrs. Stone’s hand swung, landing squarely across my face. The force of the slap made me stagger before I managed to regain my balance. I clutched my stinging, swollen cheek, staring in disbelief at Skylar, who had taken refuge behind Mrs. Stone. My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Mom, you knew about this all along too?” Mrs. Stone’s face lit up with a smile. She tenderly brushed a few strands of sweat-soaked hair from Skylar’s forehead, gently asking if I had scared her. Then, clearing her throat, she placed her hands on her hips and spoke to me with an air of superiority. “It’s your fault for not being able to keep your man in check. He just made a mistake that all men make! If you won’t have children, there are plenty of women eager to bear a child for my son.” “You’ve been married to Brandon for three years, and you couldn’t even give him a child. Whose fault is that? Let me tell you, a barren hen like you has no right to hog my Brandon’s nest!” “This is outrageous! What kind of woman is as heartless as you? You just don’t want my Brandon’s family to thrive! Are you wishing my son would be the end of our family line?!” Mrs. Stone made no effort to hide the disdain in her eyes. Her face, swollen with anger, was a mass of jiggling flesh, and not a drop of her spittle was wasted; it all landed on my face. But I was in no mood to wipe it off. Brandon and I had been married for three years, and Mrs. Stone had tormented me for just as long. I knew from the start that she never approved of me. After all, I had neither a degree nor exceptional looks. Not just Mrs. Stone, but everyone around us said I was punching above my weight with Brandon. So, I walked on eggshells in that house, terrified that any wrong move would displease her. But even so, my inability to give Brandon a child in our three years of marriage remained Mrs. Stone’s biggest grievance, and she’d pick fights with me every other day. Yet, no matter what indignity I suffered at their hands, I endured it in silence. I was terrified of putting my husband in a difficult position between his mother and me. But now, I didn’t know what all my sacrifices for this family had been for. I felt utterly pathetic, still trembling in fear after Mrs. Stone’s dismissive words.
“Stop filming! What are you all looking at?!” “Wife, are you okay?” My husband, Brandon, impatiently pushed through the crowd of gawkers blocking the doorway, slamming the hospital room door shut behind him. He must have rushed here straight from work, not even taking a moment to catch his breath, desperate to defend me. Skylar, seeing Brandon arrive, simpered and clung to him. But to her surprise, my husband showed her no pity, shoving her straight to the floor. Seeing Brandon, I felt like I finally had support. All the strength drained from me as I leaned against his shoulder, which I had yearned for. My husband pulled me into his embrace, silently calming my agitated emotions. But the imagined moment of tenderness didn’t last long. Mrs. Stone’s and Skylar’s cries and wails erupted from below. Mrs. Stone was also on the floor, throwing a fit, rolling around and wailing as she accused my husband, “You got a wife and forgot your mother! You won’t even let me have my way in such a small matter!” “Do you know how hard it was for me, a single woman, to raise you? I suffered ten times more than any man! And what was it all for? You’re useless! Sons are just raised for other people!” Mrs. Stone seemed to feel that mere crying wasn’t enough. She scrambled up from the floor and sprinted towards the hospital’s load-bearing wall, chanting like a spell, “Oh, my dear departed husband! I’m coming to join you now! We’ll be together down there. But I hate that I’ll leave without even seeing my grandchild once!” But a hospital was no place for such chaotic antics. The commotion drew security guards, who quickly intervened and separated Mrs. Stone. I looked at my husband with immense relief, a blissful thought crossing my mind: “With a husband who protects and loves me like this, I have no regrets in life.” For a moment, I felt confident I could defeat anyone who dared covet my marriage. But in this game, it turned out I was the only one who was truly invested. After hearing Mrs. Stone’s words, tears welled up in Brandon’s eyes. His face, crimson, contorted as he yanked his hand from my tight grip. He snarled at me, begging me not to make things difficult for him. “My mother raised me; it wasn’t easy! All she wants is a grandchild to dote on in her old age! She hasn’t done anything wrong!” I stared at the face of the man I had known for four years and loved for eight. His features blurred with the memory of the shy boy who had once asked me to marry him, promising to cherish me forever. It was then I realized I didn’t truly know him, or perhaps, I had never truly seen him. Yet, years of shared history still held a sliver of hope in my heart. My voice, however, couldn’t hide the disappointment as I asked him, “What about me? What did *I* do wrong?” “Please, just tell me. I’ll change.” I had always presented a strong front to my husband; this was the first time I had shown him my vulnerability. He hesitated, visibly. But then, hearing that Skylar’s water had broken and she was about to give birth, he turned and left without a second thought. If before, I could have rationalized his actions as filial piety, now it was clear to anyone with eyes: he cared for that child. Outside the delivery room, everyone anxiously awaited the new arrival. But I tore up the gifts I had already prepared, crumpling them in a unnoticed corner, wishing no one would ever discover this secret.
“Congratulations! It’s a healthy baby boy, over nine pounds! What a blessing! He’s the first boy born here today!” Everyone rushed forward, eager to hold the baby, utterly smitten. Skylar, pale and exhausted, was wheeled out, but no one paid her any mind. She weakly raised a hand, then slowly let it fall. A baby weighing nearly nine pounds was delivered naturally by petite Skylar, simply because Mrs. Stone insisted that naturally born babies are smarter than C-section babies. Skylar, eager to please her, actually gritted her teeth and went through with it. Now, she must have been utterly drained. After Skylar was moved to a regular room, unable to get out of bed, Mom and Mrs. Stone agreed to take turns looking after her. But within a few days, the cracks began to show in their seemingly solid alliance. Mom resented Skylar constantly ordering her around, harboring a simmering anger. Mrs. Stone found Skylar too high-maintenance, insisting on having three different colored basins for washing her bottom, her feet, and her underwear. “Who needs all that fuss?” she’d complain. “A basin is a basin! What’s the point of just looking good if you can’t manage a household? Such a spendthrift!” Soon, everyone found excuses not to come. Even with her strong pride, Skylar was helpless against the postpartum discharge, letting them handle her as they pleased. Brandon didn’t come to see her either. All she could do was watch the loving, happy couple in the bed next to her, silently weeping. New mothers are naturally prone to emotional fluctuations, and with the baby crying every night, Skylar’s once delicate features were gone. Her proud, waist-length hair was falling out in handfuls during the nightly ordeal. Watching this, I couldn’t help but find it amusing. So, this was the “happiness” Skylar had embraced by betraying me. But perhaps Mom also realized that leaving Skylar alone in the hospital room wasn’t a good idea. She called me, her voice sharp with command: “Your sister’s in the hospital. Go stay with her, now! Don’t make me angry! I’m only telling you once!” Silence. A long, drawn-out silence. The person on the other end of the line, hearing no response from me, grew increasingly agitated. “Are you deaf?! Your mother is talking to you! Don’t you know how to answer when you’re spoken to? Who taught you such bad manners?” “Both of you are giving me so much trouble! Did I make a mistake raising you? Did I raise enemies instead?” “I’m your mother! No matter how much you dislike it, you have to listen to me!” I put my phone on speaker and tossed it aside, ignoring the furious rant from the other end. I was happily lying back in a beauty salon, enjoying the most expensive treatments.
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