“Oh, just showing up like usual, huh? Having a poor family here really drags down the whole event’s class. Maybe you could leave a bit early,” she suggested with a sneer.
Her words were like a slap in the face, igniting a fury in me I hadn’t known before.
The notion of being labeled as a poor family was absurd and utterly reprehensible.
Not just I, but our parents too, were taken aback, rendered speechless by such blatant disrespect.
My brother’s reaction, a hearty laugh, only added insult to injury, leaving me staring at him, bewildered and demanding an explanation for such inexcusable behavior.
My voice shook as I confronted my brother.
“Wait, how can he just stand there? Why would Nancy say something so terrible?” I demanded an explanation, puzzled and hurt.
James’s response was filled with a smug arrogance.
“Because it’s true. You’re looking at the winner here. I’m on my way to becoming the head of the clinic, a success in life,” he boasted, his laughter ringing with contempt.
It was as if he was announcing his victory to us, the so-called losers, completely oblivious to the fact that his position was largely thanks to our father’s support.
Our family was stunned into silence, but Nancy wasn’t finished.
“When will you stop groveling to James, relying on your child’s success? How pathetic,” Nancy sneered.
Turning her mockery towards me, “You work at some low-tier company, don’t you? And a wedding gift of just $2,000? How laughable.”
I tried to defend myself, but her words cut deep.
“It’s just that…” I began, but she continued her relentless critique, insinuating that we were all trying to ride on my brother’s coattails because he was destined to be the next clinic director.
“Next clinic director?” I echoed in disbelief.
“Yes, exactly. James is the chosen one,” Nancy said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.
Standing beside her, James wore a look of satisfaction, as if everything Nancy said was an indisputable truth.
According to Nancy, our family was financially struggling, a narrative my brother seemed to have shared, painting himself as the clinic’s future leader, a claim that was news to everyone, including the current director.
The mood among the guests shifted uncomfortably at these revelations. James and Nancy, however, seemed unaffected, their smiles growing even more disdainful.
But the moment that changed everything was when my father suddenly burst into laughter.
His deep, hearty laughter filled the room, altering the atmosphere entirely.
“What a splendid joke this is,” he declared, still chuckling.
Feeling uneasy, I turned to him for some kind of reassurance.
“It’s fine. Just let it go. Let’s head home,” he said, still laughing.
His laughter somehow made it easier to breathe, reminding us that the value of our family couldn’t be diminished by such baseless arrogance.
I stood there, shocked, as my father announced we were leaving the wedding early.
“We’re not welcome here, just seen as a poor family to mock,” he said with a resignation that took me by surprise.
I wanted to protest, to argue that we shouldn’t let their words drive us away, but my father was already moving towards the exit.
Meanwhile, my brother and his wife seemed almost eager to see us leave.
Then, turning to James with serene composure, my father said, “I’m not sure why you feel the need to pretend, but you should keep your ego in check.”
James, taken aback, responded, “What do you mean, Dad? I’m not pretending anything.”
“Is that so?” my father continued. “Then, as the next director, you should be able to demonstrate your abilities elsewhere, not just rely on this hospital.”
He then discreetly spoke to the current director, who nodded in agreement with whatever was being discussed.
“Now leave this place. Find a job at another hospital,” my father advised James, who was visibly stunned by this directive.
“If you’re truly meant to be a director, you’ll succeed anywhere with your skills. Or is it that you’re not as confident as you claim?”