I put on oven mitts and carried the cheesy seafood casserole to the dining table. But before I could even reach it, the scene that unfolded before me made my eyes sting.

My dad, Marcus Lawson, was a man who never had the patience to hear me out. He was sitting quietly on the couch, hanging on every word as Jocelyn shared funny stories from school.

My mom, Olivia Bennett, had an arm gently draped around her as she tucked a few loose strands of hair behind Jocelyn's ear.

Joseph sat nearby, his eyes brimming with amusement.

The whole family was gathered around her, like she was the star of the day.

I stood in the doorway, feeling like an outsider in my own home.

"Dinner's ready," I said softly.

Jocelyn looked up at me, a triumphant smirk flickering across her lips before she slipped into her best wounded puppy act.

"Joanna, are you still mad at me? Did… your wedding get wrecked because of me?"

Mom's expression immediately lost its warmth. "Joanna, what's with that attitude? Jocelyn's graduation only happens once in her life. If you've got a problem, keep it to yourself. Don't ruin the mood for everyone else."

Dad scowled and snapped, "Get over here already! Stop dawdling!"

Mom's tone was chilling as she warned, "If you dare hold a grudge against Jocelyn, don't bother calling me Mom anymore."

Jocelyn feigned concern as she tugged Mom's hand and cooed, "Mom, please don't be mad at Joanna. She must be upset that her wedding was called off."

She emphasized the words "called off", her eyes gleaming with deliberate provocation.

I raised my head and met her gaze, my voice devoid of emotion. "I'm not upset. Your graduation is a big deal. It deserves to be celebrated."

They all froze, as if they hadn't expected me to take it so calmly.

Just then, the door swung open.

Felix walked in, carrying a beautifully decorated cake. His voice was gentle, so much softer than it had ever been with me.

"Jocelyn, happy graduation. I had this custom-made for you. The little piano on top was personally made by a master pastry chef."

Jocelyn's smile was radiant, her eyes gleaming with pride. "Thank you, Felix. But… Did you forget to get something for Joanna?"

That was when he seemed to remember I was here. He pulled out a small slice of tiramisu from behind his back. "Joan, this is for you. Your favorite chocolate flavor."

I stared at the lonely piece of tiramisu, then at the extravagant strawberry cake on the table, and couldn't help but laugh bitterly to myself.

He had never bothered to learn what I liked. I didn't even eat chocolate, yet he kept giving it to me.

Over the years, it wasn't just my desserts that ended up in Jocelyn's hands. It was everyone's attention, too.

I reached out and took the tiramisu, my lips curving faintly. "Thanks."

My fingers accidentally brushed against the pregnancy test in my pocket.

Two lines, bright and clear.

This morning, I'd stood in the bathroom, staring at it for what felt like an eternity as my heart pounded uncontrollably.

I'd planned to tell Felix at the wedding, picturing his face lighting up with surprise. Maybe he'd even lift me into his arms and spin me around.

But none of that mattered now.

This child wouldn't be welcomed by anyone, but I'd protect them. Even if it were just me, I'd take them and leave this place.

I shoved the thought away and walked to the dining table.

The spread was almost entirely of Jocelyn's favorites, except for the seafood casserole I'd made. Mom, Dad, and Joseph kept piling food into her bowl, showering her with praise between bites.

"Jocelyn, you're the pride of our family. Landing a spot in a piano concerto right out of college is just incredible!"

"Yeah, Joanna's nothing like you. What else does she even have besides cooking?"

"Jocelyn, don't you follow her example. Kitchen grease and smoke will ruin your hands. They're meant for the piano."

Jocelyn flashed a sweet smile, then said with deliberate kindness, "Mom, Dad, you should try some of Joanna's cooking. She worked hard on it."

It was only then that Mom seemed to remember me. She casually dropped a single shrimp into my bowl as a token gesture. "You worked hard, Joan. Go on, eat some."

I gently set down my cutlery. "I'm full."

Mom's expression hardened instantly. Feigning innocence, Jocelyn said, "Mom, is Joanna still upset about the wedding being called off?"

Mom shot me a glare. "Eat it or don't. No one's begging you!"

In the next second, Jocelyn suddenly clutched her throat, her face flushing bright red.

"Mom! Help me… I can't breathe…"

When I looked over, angry red hives were already spreading quickly across her skin—a clear sign of an allergic reaction.

Dad shot to his feet, his sharp gaze locking on me. "Joanna, there's something wrong with the food you made!"

Mom's shrill voice followed. "I knew it! You're fuming, so you hurt Jocelyn on purpose, didn't you?"

Joseph stepped in front of Jocelyn, shielding her as if she were a fragile treasure. "I should've known you were up to something when you went all quiet."

Felix's gaze joined theirs—cold and distant, without a trace of doubt in their accusation against me.

Four pairs of eyes bore into me, pinning me in place.

I hadn't done a thing, yet their baseless accusations painted me as the villain who'd poisoned Jocelyn.

A chill crept through my chest.

So this was what I meant to them. I was nothing—not a daughter, not a sister, and not a fiancee. Just a shadow they could cast aside whenever they pleased, and a convenient scapegoat whenever things went wrong.

Felix's eyes were ice-cold as he stared at me, as if I were a stranger.

He said flatly, "Let's take Jocelyn to the hospital first."

He didn't hesitate, question, or even harbor a single doubt about the so-called "crime" they'd pinned on me.

Joseph hurriedly draped a coat over Jocelyn and helped her out the door.

They all rushed out, not one of them sparing me a glance.

The moment the door slammed shut, silence swallowed the house whole. Only then did the weight of it hit me. They were really gone, and I was all alone.

I dragged my numb body back to my room. The silence was so heavy that even the sound of my own breathing felt jarring.

I opened the closet and folded a few everyday clothes into my suitcase. Passport, IDs, and bank cards—I checked them one by one.

As I cleared out my drawer, a thick notebook slipped out and thudded onto the floor. It was the diary I'd started writing when I was eight.

I stared at it, my fingers trembling, and was unable to stop myself from flipping it open.

Page after page, the yellowed paper held the stories of my growing pains and loneliness.

When I was little, money was tight, and my parents always said they had to give the best for Joseph and Jocelyn.

Joseph's brilliance earned him a place at an elite private school, while Jocelyn's frail health demanded their constant care and attention.

As for me? I was sent to a boarding school, and ten years slipped away just like that.

Whenever the holidays came around, the dorm would empty as my roommates were picked up by their parents for family reunions.

I was always the one left behind, standing in the quiet hallway as I watched everyone else roll their suitcases away. The letters that occasionally came from home were brief and cold. "Behave yourself. Don't cause us trouble."

When I finally earned my place at a university, I thought I'd earned the "right" to come home. Yet there were no warm embraces, nor whispered words saying they'd missed me. Their only offering was a cramped, shadowy room in the corner of the first floor.

That was when the realization hit me. In this family, I was nothing more than a burden they needed to tuck away.

At first, I'd cried. I buried my face in my pillow at night, sobbing until my throat burned. But eventually, I forced myself to go silent.

I threw myself into chores, followed every rule, and did everything I could to make myself "useful". I was convinced that if I worked hard enough, they'd finally look my way.

But reality proved, again and again, that no matter how much I tried, some things were simply out of reach. Their love, for instance, had never been meant for me.

My hand froze on a page, my fingers pressing so hard the paper creased.

I took a deep breath and closed the diary.

My gaze drifted toward the nightstand, where the pregnancy test lay. The two lines stared back at me, so stark that it hurt to look.

This morning, I'd pictured myself telling Felix on our wedding day, watching the first spark of joy light up his eyes, and feeling him pull me into his arms.

But now, I knew that this was a secret I no longer needed to share.

I zipped my suitcase shut. The room was so quiet that I could hear nothing but my own breathing.

Then, my phone buzzed, and the familiar name flashing on the screen made my fingers tremble.

I accepted the call.

"Hello?" My voice came out hoarse.

Felix's voice came through, stripped of all the warmth it once held, leaving only cold fury. "Joanna! Jocelyn's in the hospital, and you can't even bother to show up? Not even an apology?"

His tone was as sharp as a blade, cutting through any chance I had to explain.

I pressed my lips together, staying silent for a moment before finally saying, "Felix, I'd never play with someone's life."

But he wasn't listening. His voice grew even colder. "Stop lying! Jocelyn would never, ever risk her own life!"

I tightened my grip on the phone, my knuckles turning white as a wave of bitterness welled up in my chest.

Why wouldn't they even hear me out?

From the very beginning, all they ever wanted was a "culprit" to blame.

I took a deep breath, keeping my voice low as a barely audible choke caught in my throat. "Felix, do you believe me?"

A brief silence hung on the line, but his words poured over me like ice water in the next second. "I only believe what I see."

With that, the line went dead, replaced by the flat drone of a busy signal.

I set my phone down slowly. A crushing feeling weighed on my chest.

I closed my eyes, and memories from the past few years came rushing back.

On our dates, he'd always respond to Jocelyn's texts in a heartbeat, then give a small chuckle and say a familiar line, "She gets scared when she's alone."

At dinners, he never remembered what I couldn't eat, but he could name all of Jocelyn's favorite dishes perfectly.

Whenever we argued, he'd shut me down with the same excuse. "You're overthinking it. I'm just looking out for your sister."

Even my family took his side, saying I was controlling and asking me to stop being so petty.

I used to think Felix was my salvation—someone different from my family.

Now, I saw the truth. He was just one of them.

I opened the drawer and pulled out the documents I'd prepared long ago. The email from my advisor, Dr. Robinson, confirming my acceptance into the Doctors Without Borders program in Southaven popped up on my phone screen.

I'd already packed my visa, flight ticket, and certifications in my suitcase.

This time, I was really leaving.

Just as I dragged my suitcase toward the door, my parents' voices drifted from the living room.

Mom's tone held a trace of regret. "If only we'd let Jocelyn and Felix get together back then. With her charm, she would've been the perfect mafia boss' wife.

"It's just a shame that his brother, Frederick Wright, was still in charge at the time. Who could've guessed he'd kick the bucket and Felix would end up taking over?"

Dad replied with a note of relief in his voice, "It's better this way. Those mafia families thrive on bloodshed and violence. It would've been too dangerous for Jocelyn. Gunfire, betrayal, assassinations—there's no escaping any of it when you marry into the mafia.

"It's much better to let Joanna take that role. Besides, Felix treats Jocelyn well now."

I froze, a sharp chill stabbing through my chest.

So that was it. To them, my marriage, my future, and even my entire life were nothing but a pawn to protect Jocelyn.

I clutched the suitcase handle, my knuckles turning white from the force. A fierce resolve I'd never felt before surged through me.

I took a deep breath and yanked the door open.

Their conversation came to an abrupt stop. They looked up at me, startled, as if I were the last person they expected to see.

"Joanna, where are you going?"

I met their eyes, my fingers slowly tightening around the handle of my suitcase. For the first time, there wasn't a hint of pleading in my gaze.