Betrayed by Blood My Family Threw Me to the Wolves

It was Chinese New Year, and I was killing time at the airport when I scrolled past a post asking for help:

“An estranged cousin insists on tagging along on our trip. Hotels are too expensive—what do I do about booking her a room?”

The top comment offered a solution:

“Just say everything’s fully booked for the Spring Festival and get her a cheap hostel bed!”

I had just raised my phone, about to screenshot it and send it to my mom as proof of how outrageous relatives could be these days.

Then my mom’s message popped up.

Mom: “Sweetheart, we’ve arrived in X City ahead of schedule! Once you land, just take a taxi straight to this address!”

Below the message was a hostel location.

Almost immediately after, I saw my cousin post on her Moments: a photo from a five-star hotel.

The caption read:

“Family reunion for the New Year~ X City really has that festive vibe! So happy!”

So it turned out—the estranged cousin in that post was me.

…

The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal.

I locked my phone screen, trying to convince myself this was all just a coincidence.

Maybe Mom had sent the wrong location.

This trip had been planned for nearly half a year.

Back in summer, Mom had already been excitedly discussing the itinerary in the family group chat. Because of work, my vacation started a few days later than everyone else’s.

My parents and my cousin decided to leave first. I would follow on my own.

My cousin was five years younger than me. My uncle had passed away early; after my aunt remarried, she gradually cut off contact. From childhood on, my cousin lived with us.

We shared a room for years. Shared secrets. Grew up together.

I had always believed we were sisters.

The plane landed. I turned my phone back on.

Several new messages popped up on WeChat.

Mom: “Have you arrived, sweetheart? Take a taxi over—we’re all settled in.”

Cousin: “Sis, when are you getting here? We’ve already gone out to try the local food—so good! When you arrive, I’ll take you!”

I stared at the two messages, unsure how to reply.

In the end, I sent just one word:

“Okay.”

I opened the hostel address Mom had sent me.

Rating: 3.2 stars.

Price: 30–40 yuan per person per night.

The reviews read: “Heating not sufficient,” “Poor soundproofing,” “Shared bathrooms not very clean.”

I switched back to my cousin’s Moments. Her latest photo showed her posing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, city lights behind her.

I tapped the location tag.

One night there cost over 4,000 yuan.

“Driver, this address,” I said, handing my phone to the taxi driver.

He glanced at it, then at my neat suitcase and my clothes. He hesitated.

“Miss… are you sure? That place isn’t very nice.”

“I’m sure.”

I reopened my phone. The post had updated.

The original poster wrote smugly:

“Thanks for all the tips! We’ve already booked her a nearby hostel. If she has any sense, she’ll head home soon~ hehe.”

The comments were full of approval:

“OP is clever!”

“A hostel is generous enough—at least they didn’t make her solve it herself!”

“These unfamiliar relatives are the worst, always trying to freeload!”

The car stopped in front of a run-down building.

At the front desk sat a middle-aged man, bleary-eyed.

“Reservation?” he asked. “Name?”

“There should be one. Last name Chen.”

He checked the computer. “Harper. Six-bed dorm, 40 yuan a night. How are you paying?”

I froze. “It hasn’t been paid?”

The man looked impatient. “It was just a phone reservation. You staying or not?”

I took out my phone and sent a message to the family group chat:

“I’m at the hostel front desk. They say it’s reserved but not paid. Are you all upstairs?”

The reply came almost instantly.

Mom: “We’re not where you’re staying. We’re at another hotel nearby—about two kilometers from you.”