The Enigma of Your Love

Grace put away her guilty look. Her face was buried in Amy's arms, full of satisfaction.

The first time I saw that smug expression was when I was sixteen.

That year, I represented my school in a citywide speech competition.

My dad was on a business trip out of town.

My teacher gave me three tickets. "Evelyn, I worked hard to get these tickets for you. Your family will be so proud to see your performance."

I handed out the tickets.

But by the time the competition ended, I hadn't seen a single person.

Some classmates openly accused me, "No one even showed up, and you hogged all those tickets. So selfish."

"Just because the teacher likes you doesn't mean your family cares."

I wanted to explain, but no one listened. I hid in a corner and cried for a long time.

On my way home, I saw Grace's post on WhatsApp. "I've got a fever. Mom and Matthew stayed with me all day. I'm so lucky."

The picture was a cozy shot of the three of them in the living room, along with a thermometer reading 99.5°F.

"99.5°F, such a serious fever, huh?"

I was furious.

Amy was even angrier. "I didn't forget. I just didn't want to go. It's just a competition. What's so great about it? Is your sister's health less important than your silly contest? So selfish."

Matthew also scolded me for being petty. "Grace had a fever. Don't be so narrow-minded. There'll be other competitions. We'll make it up to you."

I cried, tears streaming down my face.

But Amy shoved me out the door. "Cry, cry, cry. That's all you do. Get outside and cry as much as you want. You're such bad luck."

Teenagers are rebellious, and I was no exception.

After calling my dad, I ran to a bar to drink.

Back then, I thought getting drunk was the only way to forget my troubles.

Halfway through my drink, my dad found me. He had rushed back, pushing aside his business.

He didn't scold me. Instead, his large hands held mine tightly. "Now, who's this crying their eyes out?

"A young girl drinking alone in a bar? That's not good. It's not safe. If you want to drink, I'll drink with you."

He held my hand and we walked along the riverside for a long time. "Don't blame your mom. She's tough on the outside but soft on the inside. She went through a lot to find your sister.

"You've got me, though. Don't worry. I'll always love and spoil you, Evelyn."

But, unfortunately, lifetime promises aren't so easy to keep.

While driving home on the highway, a reckless street racer lost control and crashed straight into our car.

In the moment our car flipped over, he held me in his arms.

I survived, but he died from blood loss.

At the hospital, Amy pressed my dad's picture hard against my chest, her eyes bloodshot as she demanded, "How could you be so selfish? All over something so small, you made your dad come back. Now he's dead. Are you happy?

"Why wasn't it you who died?"

Matthew slammed the table so hard it shook. "Evelyn, from now on, you're no longer my sister. You're disgusting."

I knelt, sobbing, begging for their forgiveness, my tears hitting the ground in large drops.

At that moment, I truly felt I deserved to die. I should've been the one.

I didn't attend my dad's funeral. Amy wouldn't let me.

Matthew blocked me at the door. "Get lost. Don't come here and disgust us."

I felt like a rat tossed into the mud, struggling helplessly.

Back then, standing behind Matthew, Grace looked at me with that same smugness expression.