Homer's fall was a bad one.

He'd climbed onto the overturned casket to hang red gauze across the top of the wedding room.

The uncle didn't like how the carved longevity patterns stood out along the edge of the lid. Said they'd ruin the photos of the wedding room.

So he pushed Homer to take a saw and shave them flat.

The bench holding up the casket shifted without warning.

Homer dropped from more than six feet up.

The back of his head hit the corner of the wall.

He was out cold on the spot.

By the time I reached the hospital, the uncle was outside the ER telling anyone who'd listen that the burial casket was cursed, bad luck through and through.

The moment the aunt saw me, she rushed over and grabbed a fistful of my jacket.

"He fell on your coffin, so you're paying the medical bills!"

I pried her fingers off and started the voice recorder on my phone.

"He fell on the thing you stole."

The aunt's voice caught.

But the relatives around us weren't done.

Someone said Homer and I had argued the night before and I'd wrecked the feng shui of the wedding room.

Someone else said the burial casket had soaked up my resentment, and that was why it turned on the eldest grandson.

Another one told me I should just pay up, or my grandmother would find out and it would end up shortening her life.

I didn't argue.

I only recorded every word of it.

The next afternoon, Homer woke up.

After the exam, the doctor said his memory had stopped about five years back.

The last five years, he'd forgotten almost all of it.

I stood in the doorway of his room.

The uncle and aunt got to the bedside first.

Over and over, they told Homer:

He was about to get married.

I had thrown a fit in the wedding room, trying to snatch the family's burial casket away.

His fall from up there was my fault too. I'd driven him to it.

Homer listened for a long while, frowning.

Then he spotted me through the crowd.

"Tess?"

That was what he'd called me back when he was nineteen.

"Why'd you get so thin?"

The aunt's face changed at once.

"Don't listen to her. She's the reason you got hurt."

Homer looked at her.

"Why would she want to hurt me?"

"She's been selfish since she was little. Throws around a little money and thinks she can run the whole family."

The uncle put in from beside her:

"When has she ever really helped you?"

Homer's frown pulled tighter.

"My training fees. Didn't Tess pay those?"

"When I went out of town for my internship and had no money, she wired me living expenses every month."

The room went quiet for a beat.

Five years ago, the uncle had called the training program a waste of money and forced Homer to quit. It was my summer job money that paid his fees.

Later, when Homer went out of town to intern and got no pay for three months, I was the one sending him money the whole time.

With the last five years wiped out, what he remembered happened to be from before things between us had gone completely bad.

The uncle smoothed the panic off his face fast.

"That was all in the past."

"People change. All she cares about now is money."

For the next two days, the uncle and aunt took turns keeping watch in his room.

They painted me as a woman who'd used a burial casket to curse a wedding, who'd cut off her own family for the sake of an inheritance.

And they kept telling Homer that the casket was just old wood from the family home.

That once I'd made a little money in the city, I'd forced it into my own hands.

Homer's head ached listening to it.

A few times he tried to ask me something, but the aunt cut him off.

I didn't barge into the room to explain.

And just because he still remembered the good I'd done, I didn't pin my hopes on him.

I made a trip to the woodworking workshop.

The old craftsman pulled up the material selection records, the carving photos, and the delivery video.

The name, birth dates, and serial number on the inside of the casket were all there in the original photos.

Using all of it, the lawyer tightened up the lawsuit materials.

On the third night, I went to the hospital to pick up copies of the medical records.

As I reached the room, I heard the uncle drop his voice.

"Tomorrow we bring Homer back early."

"Get every relative in the village there to witness it."

The aunt sounded uneasy.

"Right now all he remembers is Tessa being good to him. What if he won't help us?"

"Then we teach him what to say."

"Have him swear the burial casket belonged to the Pruitts all along, and that Tessa's the one who caused his fall."

There was no sound from inside the room.

The two of them thought Homer was already asleep.

The uncle went on:

"As long as the coffin stays in the new house, the wedding can go ahead."

"After it's done we sell off the wood. That'll cover the shortfall on the banquet."

I didn't push the door open.

Back in the car, the relatives' group chat had already gotten the uncle's notice.

Tomorrow morning, everyone was to gather at the new house as witnesses.

He was going to make Homer say it out loud himself.

That I had seized the Pruitt family's property and caused his injury.

I forwarded the group message to the lawyer.

【We go ahead as planned.】

The next day, the uncle brought Homer back to the village early.

The courtyard of the new wedding house was packed with relatives and neighbors.

The burial casket still sat in the middle of the master bedroom.

Red cloth was draped over it, with a thick mattress laid on top.

Gold wedding decorations covered the carved longevity patterns on the coffin lid.

The uncle bragged about it to everyone who came.

This was a hundred-and-sixty-thousand-dollar solid-wood marriage bed.

Relatives crowded around it taking photos, saying the eldest grandson was using burial wood to press good fortune into the marriage.

It would add years to the old woman's life, they said, and it would guarantee the Pruitt family a son.

The moment the lawyer and I walked in, the voices in the courtyard dropped low.

The uncle pointed at me and pronounced his verdict in front of everyone.

"This burial wood belongs to the Pruitt family."

"Homer is the eldest grandson. Using it for a few days before the wedding is a rule the ancestors left us."

"Tessa made a scene in the wedding room over money, got Homer hurt, and now she wants to sue her own uncle."

Several of the older relatives blocked the doorway and would not let me near the casket.

One said the red cloth had already been laid over the coffin, so it could not be carried out until after the wedding.

Another said if I insisted on taking it away, I was cutting off Homer's bloodline.

The aunt helped Homer into the middle of the crowd.

"Homer, tell everyone."

"Wasn't it Tessa who barged into the wedding room and made you fall from up high?"

Homer's face was still a little pale.

He looked at the uncle, then at the marriage bed covered by the red cloth.

"You're all saying this is old wood from the family home that nobody wanted?"

The uncle answered fast.

"Of course."

"You used to play on it when you were little."

"Later Tessa insisted she'd bought it."

Homer said nothing.

He walked into the wedding room and grabbed a corner of the red cloth.

The aunt rushed to block him.

"Once the red cloth is on, it can't come off. Taking it off ruins the luck!"

The relatives at the door joined in.

"Seeing a coffin before a wedding is bad luck!"

"Whatever you've got to say, say it after the wedding's done!"

Homer raised his arm and pushed the aunt aside.

The red cloth was torn back all at once.

The whole body of the casket came into full view.

On the inner side, gold lacquer spelled out Grandmother's name and birth date.

Beside it was the custom order number from the woodworking workshop.

Below the gold wedding characters, the longevity carvings had been punched clean through with long nails.

The people crowded at the door all stepped back together.

Someone covered their mouth.

Someone spat on the ground and muttered about the bad luck.

But it did not take long for someone to shove the blame onto me.

"Tessa's the one who had to pull it off in front of everyone. That's what let the bad luck out."

"The coffin's already in the wedding room. Carrying it away now would only wreck Homer's fate worse."

The uncle forced his smile back.

"You hear that?"

"Everyone understands the rules. You're the only one who has to make trouble."

Homer stared at the name on the casket.

"Didn't you say this was old wood?"

The uncle's smile stopped for a second.

"Your head's not right yet. Don't worry about all this."

He reached out to pull the red cloth back over it.

"Hurry up and tell everyone whether Tessa's the one who got you hurt."

Homer dodged his hand.

The uncle's voice dropped.

"Homer, I'm your father."

"You know what you're supposed to say."

Everyone in the courtyard was watching them.

The old Homer would cave the instant the uncle so much as frowned.

The uncle was clearly waiting for it too.

The look of a man holding a winning hand came back onto his face.

He even threw a glance at the relatives blocking the door.

But Homer did not go to him.

He looked at Grandmother's name on the casket.

Then he looked at the bruises still fading on my arm.

The uncle reached out to pull him to his side.

Homer flung that hand off hard and turned, putting himself between me and the casket.

"Tessa didn't take anything from anyone."

"You're the ones who pried the lock in the middle of the night and stole the burial casket she spent a hundred and sixty thousand on for Grandmother. And now you want to force me to frame her in front of the whole village."

He looked up at the uncle and aunt and said it one word at a time.

"Dad, Mom, you're the thieves."

"I only trust Tessa."

"Every single word out of your mouths, I don't believe!"