The Fortune Teller Said I Was Bad Luck, I Brought Them Worse Chapter 12

The Fortune Teller Said I Was Bad Luck, I Brought Them Worse Chapter 12

That night, I stayed in my room the entire night.

Outside my door, voices rose and fell for hours, then they eventually left, one after another. I heard Mom crying, Dad sighing, Gavin slamming doors as he stormed out.

Then, silence.

At three in the morning, I opened the door.

The living room was a mess: the ashtray overflowing, teacups shattered, chairs overturned.

Mom and Dad’s bedroom door was closed, muffling stifled cries from inside.

I quietly went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water.

A suit jacket tossed on the sofa. I recognized it as Gavin’s. I picked it up to hang it neatly, and then felt something in the pocket.

It was a thick envelope, with “For Isabella” written on the cover.

I squeezed it; judging by the weight, there was a thick stack of cash inside.

On the back, in Gavin’s handwriting, a small note: [Isabella, I’m sorry. Take this for now. I’ll pay you back, bit by bit.]

I held the envelope in the dark living room for a long time, then placed it on the coffee table and weighed it down with the ashtray.

Back in my room, I turned on my phone.

In addition to missed calls from family, dozens of messages had poured in, everyone asking the same thing: [Your brother’s wedding was today. Why didn’t you come?]

I didn’t reply to a single one. Then I saw some messages from Lily.

It was eleven at night, six hours after the wedding was canceled.

[Isabella, it’s me, Lily. I’m sorry about today.]

[Don’t take my mom’s words to heart. She’s old-fashioned; I don’t actually care about that.]

[But Gavin lied to me. He said you had everything arranged, all the money paid. I didn’t know it was like this. If I had, I wouldn’t have…]

[Forget it. There’s no point saying this now.]

[Isabella, you’re a good person. Gavin doesn’t deserve a sister like you.]

[We’re breaking up. The wedding is off. I’ll return the engagement money.]

[Take care.]

I stared at her words for a long time. Then I typed back:

[You too.]

Sent. I turned off the phone.

As dawn approached, I packed a suitcase: a few clothes, some essentials. I left the rest behind.

Dragging the suitcase, I walked out of the room just as Mom came out of the bedroom. Her eyes were swollen like walnuts. She froze when she saw the suitcase in my hand.

“Isabella, you…”

“I’m moving out for a while,” I said. “I’ll continue paying rent, don’t worry.”

“Where are you going?”

“To a friend’s place,” I paused. “Mom… take care of yourself.”

“Isabella…” Tears fell again. “I was wrong, I really was… Please don’t go… I promise I’ll treat you better from now on, I’ll…”

“No need.” I shook my head. “It’s too late.”

I dragged the suitcase to the door, changed my shoes, and opened it.

“Isabella!” Mom rushed forward and grabbed my suitcase. “Don’t leave! I’m begging you… this family can’t break like this!”

“This family fell apart long ago,” I said softly, pushing her hand aside. “It fell apart the moment you started treating everything I gave as something you were entitled to.”

I stepped out, entered the elevator.

Mom staggered to the doorway, holding onto the frame, crying so hard she could barely stand.

The elevator doors closed slowly, cutting off her face, cutting off the home I had lived in for thirty years.