The Eve of A Broken Family

Yedda's face was etched with anger and disappointment.

"Raymond was sick all night yesterday. He was worried you'd be upset, so he came with me today to apologize.

"How could you scold him?"

Raymond immediately responded, "It doesn't matter if he yells at me. I'm more worried about your hand. Does it hurt?"

He gently massaged her hand, and the sight of it made my blood boil.

"It does matter! Apologize," Yedda demanded, her expression stern.

It was clear that if I didn't apologize, her hand might just find its way back to my face.

Looking at her, a face so reminiscent of her mother's, filled me with an indescribable sadness.

"Did I say anything wrong?" I countered.

"Raymond is a grown man; he could have called a cab. It's not like you're his only friend. Why did he have to call you?

"And if you had to go, why couldn't you wait until after the photoshoot? Would arriving a bit later have killed him?

"Do you know how long we waited for you? The photographer was about to leave, and Adelaide kept pleading with him to stay, but you never showed up."

As I spoke, the bitterness welled up inside me again.

Yedda's eyelashes fluttered. She looked somewhat guilty as she softened her tone.

"I thought you would have gone home by then. How was I supposed to know you'd wait there like idiots?

"Alright, I get it. You care about Mom, and she takes your side. But do you have to keep using her to guilt-trip me?"

Seeing the swelling on my face and sensing my cold demeanor, she reluctantly apologized.

"Fine, fine. It was my fault. I'll go to the hospital later and make it up to her."

I scoffed.

"Why didn't you think of that earlier? It's too late now."

Yedda had never been treated like this by me before.

Usually, whenever we argued, I'd back down as soon as she gave me an out.

She struggled to keep her anger in check. "Boyce Todd, you... you've gone too far."

Raymond, who had been watching with a smirk, added fuel to the fire.

"This is ridiculous. You're treating Yedda like a fool.

"You can't go a minute without dragging Adelaide into this, huh? You just want to make Yedda feel guilty."

Yedda suddenly stood up.

"Yes, I admit I stood you up yesterday. But I'm here now, aren't I? You don't have to be so dramatic.

"Besides, Mom was doing much better yesterday; she was even up and about. One night wouldn't make a difference, right?"

It wasn't improvement—it was just a final burst of energy.

"It does make a difference. A big one," I said through gritted teeth.

Raymond, clearly enjoying the tension, chuckled. "You're the one with the problem, Boyce, not her.

I was in no mood to argue with him.

He continued, "I get it—you're sick of taking care of Adelaide, so you're looking for an excuse to bail, right?

"She doesn't like me, but I could take over for you. Or is it that you're worried I'll screw things up?

"I mean, come on, you look like you're blaming me for her condition."

I clenched my fists, anger welling up inside.

Adelaide's cancer was terminal, but Raymond had played a part in her rapid decline.

After Adelaide's surgery, she was stable—until Raymond, feverish with the flu, decided to visit my home while I was out of town.

Adelaide, already frail, caught the flu from him, and by that evening, she was in the ICU.

Her health spiraled from there.

"What? Cat got your tongue? Did I hit a nerve?" Raymond sneered.

"Yedda, I've seen guys like him before—big talk, no action. He says he won't do the photoshoot, but look at him, already here sulking.

"Stop pretending, Boyce. Adelaide would die of a heart attack if she saw that scowl. If you don't want to care for her, just leave. Who are you putting on this act for?"

"Acting? I'll show you acting!"

I couldn't hold back any longer. My fist flew towards Raymond's face, landing with a satisfying crunch.