A few days before the wedding, the planner scheduled a rehearsal for me and my fiancé. The moment he picked me up in his arms, his sister suddenly burst into tears. "Ethan! That is so disgusting! Why are you groping her in front of everyone?! Does she not have legs? Can't she walk by herself?" My fiancé immediately put me down to comfort her. Then, he demanded I walk to the wedding car myself. Tradition says the bride's feet shouldn't touch the ground until she reaches the altar. My parents tried to argue, but my fiancé of three years threatened to postpone the wedding. "Bella doesn't like it. If you insist on these archaic traditions, then we’re postponing the wedding!" 1 Both families stared at Bella in shock. The groom carrying the bride—isn't that standard? "Is she crippled?! Does she not have legs? Can't she walk?!" Bella screamed, her face twisted in rage. Whispers ripple through the crowd. "On the wedding day, it's tradition for the bride not to touch the ground," my mom explained with a strained smile. "Bella, when you get married, it'll be the same for you!" "I don't care! I won't let my brother carry her! If she wants to get married, she can walk! Or I'll never talk to Ethan again!" Bella stomped her foot. I looked at Ethan in disbelief. His worried gaze, however, was fixed entirely on Bella. Suddenly, his arms loosened, and he dropped me. I stumbled, my expensive Jimmy Choos slamming onto the wet pavement without warning. Mud instantly splattered the hem of my white dress. Just like my mood. "Oh no!" My mom rushed forward to lift my skirt. "Why did you drop her? Thank god it's just the rehearsal. You can't do this on the big day!" While everyone gathered around to ask if I twisted my ankle, Ethan was busy hugging Bella, whispering soothingly, "It's okay, baby. I won't carry her. She can walk, okay?" "Hmph," Bella pouted. "Promise you'll never carry her again!" Never carry me again? Should we just become bros instead? "Okay, okay, I promise. Whatever you say." My fiancé agreed to her insane demand without hesitation. Bella looked over Ethan's shoulder, smirking at me with triumph. Ethan once told me he had a "cute" little sister. I didn't know this was his definition of cute. "Forget it. It's just a rehearsal. Bella is young, don't hold it against her," my future in-laws said, trying to smooth things over. I exchanged a look with my parents, swallowed my anger, and continued the rehearsal. Next, when the officiant said, "You may kiss the bride," Ethan glanced at Bella's glaring face. "Let's skip this part," he said. Watching him cater to her every whim, the last shred of hope in my heart shattered. The rehearsal ended. We were ushered to the bridal suite. But Bella had beaten us there. She was currently barefoot, rolling around on my new marital bed. My future mother-in-law rushed to pull her off. "What are you doing?" Bella was dragged off, but she immediately bounced back onto the bed, leaving dirty footprints on the pristine red sheets. "What's wrong? Can't I lie on my brother's bed?! I'm just testing the mattress for them!" The room went silent. Even a child knows the marital bed is for the newlyweds. Bella is twenty-two. I turned to Ethan, expecting an explanation. Instead, he smiled dotingly. "Bella is right. My home is your home. Everything I have is yours! Your sister-in-law will spoil you just like I do. She won't be mad. Right, Harper?" 2 That last sentence was directed at me. It was laughable. I had promised to be a good sister-in-law, but I didn't sign up for a sister-in-law with zero boundaries. I didn't answer. I walked over and pulled back the duvet. The bed, which should have been decorated with rose petals, was littered with peanut shells. Worse, right down the middle of the king-sized bed, there was a row of potted cacti dividing it in half. The guests started whispering. "Cacti on the bed? Is this some new trend?" "How are they supposed to sleep? It's literally a barrier between them. The groom's family is insane." "Ethan, care to explain?" I asked. "This..." Ethan looked awkward. "Don't blame my brother!" Bella stood on the bed, looking down at me. "He promised he wouldn't touch you! To stop you from throwing yourself at him in the middle of the night, I prepared this. If you aren't afraid of needles, go ahead and cross the line!" Rage boiled in my chest. I laughed, but it was cold. "Ethan, is this what you want?" "No... Harper, listen, I'll move the cacti..." I ignored him and walked to the guest room. As expected, the room we planned for a future nursery was filled with Bella’s stuff. Pink curtains, pink sheets, and a framed photo of her and Ethan hugging on the nightstand. "Harper, it's just a small thing. Do you have to be so dramatic?" Ethan followed me, nagging. "And this?" I pointed at the room. "What does this mean?" By now, the guests had followed us. "You got a problem?" Bella’s voice was dripping with attitude. "I told my brother ages ago: wherever he goes, I go. His house must have a room for me. So I moved in. Right, brother?" Ethan looked guilty. He had never mentioned this to me. But he defended her instantly. "Yes, Harper. I promised Bella. The room was empty anyway, so why can't she stay? Harper, you're the older sister now, don't be so petty!" He gained confidence as he spoke, ending with a tone of accusation. Unforgettable. Truly. I nodded coldly and turned to the wedding videographer. "Please make sure you record all of this." The cameraman nodded, panning the room. "Mommy, what's this?" A child’s voice broke the tension. Everyone looked. A six-year-old boy walked out of the ensuite bathroom holding a red thong. The adults blushed. My aunt whispered, "Harper, is that yours?" My face went pale. We hadn't moved in yet. It definitely wasn't mine. Could it be...? I looked at Ethan. "Hey!" Bella shrieked, snatching it back. "Why are you touching my stuff?" She realized everyone was staring and pouted. "What are you looking at? Haven't you seen underwear before? I just changed. I was going to ask my brother to wash it for me." She looked at me, a sweet, triumphant smile on her lips. "Whenever my brother is home, he washes my underwear. He won't change just because he got a wife, right, Brother?" 3 "Yeah, nothing will change," Ethan promised naturally. "Leave it there. I'll wash it later." I stood there, frozen. A twenty-five-year-old man hand-washing his twenty-two-year-old sister's thongs... and it's a regular thing? Bella looked at me like she had won the lottery. "I've seen everything now. A sister-in-law changing her thong in the groom's suite and asking him to wash it on his wedding day? Shameless!" someone muttered. "Yeah, since when does the sister live with the newlyweds?" my relatives chimed in, unable to hold back. "This is too much! She won't let him carry the bride, won't let them kiss, puts cacti in the bed, and moves in? Do you have no shame?" Someone shouted, "She doesn't want them to consummate the marriage because she wants to do it herself!" Hearing the insults, Bella threw herself into Ethan's arms and wailed. "Brother! You said you'd be good to me even after you got married! Are you just going to let them bully me?" Ethan hugged her tight, glaring at me. "Harper Vance! Are your relatives always this trashy?" I laughed and pointed at the balcony. "My relatives are being polite. Anyone else would have thrown you two off the roof by now!" "Harper!" Ethan’s voice was a warning. "We've been together for three years. We made it this far. Are you really going to treat my sister like this?" Three years. We worked hard, supported each other, built a life. For the sake of those three years, I decided to try one last time. "Ethan," I said calmly. "I'm a normal girl. I want a normal wedding. I want my privacy. So, please ask your sister to move out." "If you can accept that, I'm willing to try. If you can't..." I bit my lip, eyes stinging. I couldn't say the words. "Enough," Ethan interrupted. "Bella is my sister. If she doesn't like me carrying you, or kissing you, we won't do it. Why do you have to fixate on these little things? How does her living here hurt you?" "If you love me, accept my family! If you can't, then the wedding is off! Postponed until you figure it out and apologize to Bella!" I nodded, watching them cling to each other. Tears finally fell. I thought today was the start of our life. Turns out, it's the end. "She isn't in my way. I'm in yours. I'm out." I turned and walked away. "Harper is right! Why get married? Just live with your sister!" My family followed me out. Ethan shouted behind us, "What did you say?! Don't you dare talk about her like that!" Ethan's mom tried to stop me, but my cousins pushed her aside and escorted me out. My parents were furious, wanting to go back and fight, but I shook my head. Let's leave the last shred of dignity for the past three years. I went home and immediately sent a cancellation notice to all my guests. Unfortunately, a clean break was just wishful thinking. Ethan and I worked at the same company, different departments. Monday morning, I ran into him in the lobby. Bella was hanging off his arm, saying goodbye like they were lovers in a war movie. She rolled her eyes at me. I ignored her and walked to the elevator. Ethan chased after me. "Harper, have you realized your mistake? I love you, but I only have one sister. I have to prioritize her feelings. The wedding is in two days. If you apologize now, it's not too late!" "She's studying for the civil service exam and needs an iPad. Buy her the new iPad Pro. I'll put in a good word for you." 4 I laughed at his audacity. "Ethan, don't you think your sister's feelings for you are... weird?" I asked. "Weird how?!" Ethan frowned. "Dirty minds see dirt! We grew up together. An only child like you wouldn't understand our bond!" I shook my head and walked away. Thirty minutes later, the police called. "Is this Harper Vance? You are suspected of a hit-and-run. Please come to [Street Name] immediately." I was stunned. It turned out my car—my only car, a brand new BMW my parents bought me as a dowry—had hit someone. It was supposed to be parked at the bridal home. Obviously, the gruesome twosome was involved. Rage, hot and blinding, filled me. I rushed to the scene. My beautiful white BMW, worth $80,000, was totaled in the middle of the road. In front of it, a black sedan was flipped over. A man and a woman were lying on the ground, covered in blood, waiting for the ambulance. The crowd saw me and swarmed. "Think you can do whatever you want because you're rich?!" "Hit and run! You're going to jail!" "Were you driving?" the officer asked sternly. "It was her! I saw a woman!" a witness yelled. "But wasn't she wearing white with blonde hair?" someone asked. "Wigs exist! She probably changed clothes!" I realized instantly. Blonde hair. White dress. That was Bella's outfit this morning. Ethan had given her my car. Just as I was about to speak, Ethan rushed over and grabbed me. He looked at the cop. "It was her! I'm so sorry. My girlfriend caused this mess. I'll make sure she takes responsibility!" "Wow, good boyfriend," the crowd murmured. "Better than she deserves." I was fuming. "No..." Ethan pulled me aside before I could finish. "Harper, just admit it was you, okay?! Bella doesn't have a license!" "If they find out it was her, her life is over! She can't take the civil service exam with a record! Do you want to ruin her?!" "Just take the blame! It's just a fine and a few days in jail. Trust me, if you do this, Bella will forgive you for the wedding rehearsal! I promise we'll get married as soon as you're out!" He raised his voice for the crowd. "Harper, just confess! Apologize to the victims! If you show remorse, maybe they'll go easy on you!" The crowd nodded approvingly. People started filming. Being framed in front of a hundred people made my anger peak. But strangely, the extreme rage made me calm. I pressed 'Record' on my phone in my pocket.
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