“You’re going to that wedding whether you like it or not, Laura. Miss it and I’m done paying for your education. You hear me?”
My father’s voice crackled through the phone, sharp and final. I sat in my apartment in Portland, Oregon, staring at the acceptance letter on my desk—the one nobody in my family knew existed. My name is Laura Chen, and I’m twenty-two years old. For most of my life, I’ve been the invisible daughter in a family that only had eyes for one person: my younger sister, Jessica.
She was the golden child, the one who could do no wrong, the one whose every achievement was celebrated like a national holiday. Me? I was the backup plan, the disappointment, the one who existed to make Jessica look better by comparison. The wedding my father was threatening me about was Jessica’s big day. She was marrying Trevor, some guy from a wealthy family who worked in commercial real estate. I’d met him exactly twice, and both times he’d looked through me like I was part of the furniture.
“Dad, I have exams that week,” I said, even though it was a lie. I’d already graduated three weeks earlier, summa cum laude, with a degree in environmental engineering. I’d walked across that stage with honors, been named valedictorian of my class, and accepted a job offer starting at one hundred and ten thousand dollars a year. None of them knew, because I hadn’t told them. I’d stopped sharing my accomplishments with my family years ago when I realized they didn’t care.
“Exams can wait,” he snapped. “Your sister’s wedding happens once. You think your mother and I struggled to put you through school so you could skip family obligations?”
That line made me laugh, though I kept it silent. Struggled? They’d paid my first semester of tuition four years ago and held it over my head ever since, like they’d bought me a palace. After that first semester, I’d taken out loans, worked three part-time jobs, and applied for every scholarship I could find. I’d paid my own way through college while they threw money at Jessica’s sorority fees, spring break trips, and designer wardrobe.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“You’ll do more than think about it. You’ll be there in a dress with a smile on your face, or you can forget about me writing another tuition check. Your choice.”
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