The Family Game

I noticed Sarah’s hands trembling, something that made me uneasy, so I pressed on.

"Sarah, how old are you now? Where do you work?"

"She’s twenty-one," Margaret cut in before Sarah could speak. "She got married last year—to Mike Johnson from the next rural community. I found her a good match!" Her voice was raised with pride.

Then her tone darkened as she turned to Sarah.

"It’s rare for you to come home, and you show up empty-handed. And that long face—who’s it for? If you’re not going to eat, get back to your husband’s house!"

Sarah suddenly lifted her head and forced a smile that made my chest tighten.

She was only twenty-one, just three years older than me, but she looked like a woman in her forties or fifties.

When she looked up, I saw more than the bruise on her forehead—her face was covered in marks.

These weren’t from a fall. They were from being hit.

"Sarah, what happened to your face?" I couldn’t hold back the question.

She glanced at Margaret, then quickly shook her head, saying nothing, though tears slipped down her cheeks.

Margaret slammed her bowl on the table and glared at her.

"Crying again? You’ll cry away whatever blessings you have left! Sure, Mike’s temper is a little hot, but if you behaved yourself, would he lay a hand on you?"

"It’s been a year since you married and still no baby. You eat for free every day—if you were my wife, I’d hit you too!"

"If you’re not going to eat, get back and take care of your husband. Don’t sit here being an eyesore, you bring bad luck!"

"Mom, how can you talk like that?!" I cut in, horrified, and looked at Sarah with concern.

She covered her face and cried, then stood and ran outside.

I made to follow her, but Margaret yanked me back.

"Don’t chase her—women shouldn’t be spoiled."

After Sarah left, Robert and Margaret kept chatting with me cheerfully, but I’d lost all interest.

Jacob was stuffing meat into his mouth so greedily that his lips shone with grease, and the sight made me queasy.

When the meal finally ended, Rachel, Lily, Jacob, and I followed our parents outside, but Sophie stayed behind.

I saw her deftly clearing the dishes, her small frame moving with practiced motions that made my heart ache.

I stood up. "Mom, I’ll help Sophie wash the dishes."

"No need!" Margaret pulled me toward the couch.

"A girl needs to learn housework from a young age, or her husband’s family will look down on her later."

I gave an awkward smile and turned to glance at Lily and Rachel, who were sitting quietly nearby.

They had hardly spoken during the meal, and I hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to them.

Now that I was looking, my gaze locked on Rachel.

She looked exhausted—her face pale, dark circles under her eyes like someone with a chronic illness.

Sarah was twenty-one, but Rachel was my age. How could her health already be so poor?

"Rachel, are you feeling unwell? Are you working now or still in school?"

She forced a small smile, her eyes growing red as she looked at me.

"I’m not in school anymore. I work out of town. When I heard you were coming, I took time off. I’ll head back the day after tomorrow."

"I’m fine, thank you for caring."

"She’s a busy one," Margaret interrupted again, her voice full of pride but devoid of concern.

"She works at a garment factory during the day and as a server at the weekend street fair in the evenings. Our whole family relies on her."

I froze—Rachel’s health clearly couldn’t handle such a load.

"Two jobs? Rachel, you already look unwell. Why don’t you come home and rest for a while?"

"She’s just naturally frail. Don’t worry about her," Margaret replied flatly.