A Sister’s Crown of Thorns

“I’ve always said Shakira is capable. Much better than that ungrateful Kristine…”

My father’s voice trailed off when he noticed me standing there. His face twisted into an awkward scowl as the words caught in his throat.

At the family banquet, everyone raised their glasses to toast Shakira and Nathan, offering their blessings for a happy marriage and a blissful life together.

The cheerful chatter and laughter echoed in my ears, each word stabbing like needles. I couldn’t help but glance at Nathan.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even try to explain. He simply held his wine glass with calm poise, a polite smile fixed on his lips.

Unable to stand another minute of it, I stood up and walked out into the courtyard. The evening air was cool, but it did little to numb the pain surging inside me.

Footsteps followed me. Shakira.

“Sister,” she said in her syrupy voice, “you haven’t been home in six years. How could you leave so soon? Isn’t that a bit rude?”

Then her tone turned sharp, venomous.

“You’re just like your cheap mother. Always missing the opportunity to make money when it’s right in front of you. No wonder you’re destined to be poor for the rest of your life. Pathetic.”

Anger surged through me like wildfire. I turned to face her, my voice as cold as ice.

“What are you talking about? What exactly did my mother go through before she died?”

Shakira gave a mock pout and sauntered over to the swing, gently swaying back and forth like a child. Her voice dropped low, but her words were cruel.

“Someone offered me twenty thousand dollar to spend one night with her. She refused. Wanted to go back to the country the moment she landed. How was I supposed to work with an employee like that?”

“I don’t do unprofitable deals. So I had to teach her a lesson. Who knew she had such a stubborn streak? Even after I drugged her, she didn’t give in.”

“Before she died, she was stripped, kneeling on the ground, begging me not to tell you. But I’m just so kind-hearted. How could I keep something like that from you?”

She smiled at me, sweet as poison.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged at her. We crashed to the ground, kicking and scratching. Her face split open, blood trickling down her cheek.

“What are you doing?! Stop it right now!”

My father stormed over and, without a word, slapped me hard across the face.

My blood boiled. I stared at him with tear-filled eyes, shouting uncontrollably:

“She killed my mother! Don’t I have the right to take revenge?”

“You knew what she did—!”

Smack!

Another slap, even harder. My head whipped to the side and I tasted blood. A tooth hit the ground beside me.

“What did she do to your mother? Do you have proof?” my father shouted.

“How dare you slander her like that? Is this the kind of upbringing your mother gave you?”

I turned to Nathan, desperate. One last time—I looked at him, silently begging for help, for even a flicker of understanding after all these years.

But he just looked at me with the same cold detachment as the others.

His voice was like a blade.

“Kristine, apologize. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Your mother’s death was her own doing. It had nothing to do with Shakira. And now you’re creating a scene—are you happy?”

His words settled over me like a cold fog.

Then came the murmurs and snide whispers from the guests nearby.

“I heard Old Raymond’s ex-wife has been doing odd jobs since the divorce. Looks like it’s true.”

“So her husband cheated. Big deal. What man doesn’t have a mistress or two? Just deal with it and move on. She died chasing a bit of money. That’s on her.”

“Women like that are always too emotional. And now look at her daughter—cut from the same pathetic cloth.”

I dropped to my knees. The pain in my body was nothing compared to the agony in my heart.

Nathan’s expression darkened. His patience had run dry.

“Kristine, don’t make me hit you again. Dignity is something you have to give yourself.”

My hands trembled as my nails dug into the dirt. Blood seeped from my fingertips into the earth.

Slowly, I lowered my head and knocked it once against the edge of the flower bed.

“I’m sorry.”

I said it again. And again.

Ten times.

When I finally looked up, tears blurred my vision, but my gaze was sharp as ice.

“Can I leave now?”

Nathan hesitated, clearly surprised by my sudden compliance. But whatever unease he felt vanished quickly as Shakira clung to his arm and started whining again.

“Go ahead. But don’t cause any more trouble.”

But there was no “us” anymore.

There were no taxis in the villa complex and just then, it began to pour.

I walked ten kilometers in the rain until I finally reached the funeral home.

As I watched my mother being laid to rest, the last thread of attachment in my heart snapped.

At midnight, the family banquet came to an end and a message from Nathan popped up on my phone.

“Did you get home? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t eat tonight, so I brought you something. Wait for me, okay?”

“Your assistant told me you didn’t try on the wedding dress and threw a tantrum again. I’ll bring it back for you to try. Be a good girl.”

His tone was patronizing, like he was speaking to a pet.

And yet… I had once mistaken that for love.

I didn’t reply.

I turned off my phone and tossed it into the trash can.

Then I walked straight to the boarding gate without looking back.

Goodbye, Nathan.

Goodbye forever.