The closer the wedding came, the stranger Claire became.
One night during dinner at my parents’ house, she suddenly set down her fork and looked directly at me.
“You should reconsider marrying him, Alice.”
My mother froze mid-sip.
I laughed because surely she had to be joking.
Claire didn’t smile.
“I mean it.”
Heat rushed into my face instantly.
“What is wrong with you?”
Mom snapped before Claire could answer.
“Just because your sister finally found someone decent doesn’t mean you get to ruin it.”
Claire’s expression changed immediately. That old familiar hurt surfaced — the wound of always being labeled difficult, dramatic, too much.
“I’m not trying to ruin anything,” she shot back.
Dad sighed heavily. “Then stop acting like this.”
Claire stood up and walked out.
Her bedroom door slammed down the hallway.
Nobody followed her.