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The shirt slapped against my face before crumpling to the floor.
“What the hell is this?” Logan snapped, his eyes narrowing at the rumpled mess. “Why isn’t it finished yet?”
I crouched down to pick it up, wincing as blood from the gash on my palm seeped through the gauze.
“I’m sorry, I murmured. “I got distracted with the other laundry, then I was cleaning, and earlier the vase-”
“Oh, so now we’re making excuses?” His tone spiked with anger, “Seriously, Penelope? You dream about honeymoons in Milan but can’t manage basic housework?”
He hurled another wad of clothes at me, this one smudged with a faint yellow mark.
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“And this? Look at this!” he yelled. “You ruined it. This was designer. Do you have any idea how much this cost?”
I stared at the tiny stain–barely there–but to him, it was a disaster.
“I didn’t notice,” I said quietly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Logan scoffed, running a hand down his face. “Unbelievable. This is literally your one responsibility. You live here, everything handed to you, and I ask for one thing–just one–and even that’s too much?”
Before I could form a reply, the front door burst open and a bright, sugary voice filled the room.
“Logan! Brother–in–law! What are you yelling about now?”
It is Lauren.
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sun–kissed skin, curls bouncing, arms loaded with shopping bags and suitcases still wearing their tags.
“Guess what!” she beamed, dropping the bags with flair. “Spain was divine. Logan, you’d adore it. I brought you something!”
Logan’s demeanor shifted instantly. “Lauren, you didn’t have to-‘
he held out a sleek gift box. “Custom from orence. Limited pieces. As soon as I saw them, I thought of you.”
He opened it like a kid at Christmas, grinning wide.
Then she glanced my way, her tone dipped in mock sympathy.
“Why were you yelling at my sister? Look at her–she’s exhausted. Hands all roughed up. She’s obviously been working. Forget the shirt–I brought you new ones.”
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Just like that, I vanished from the moment, forgotten once again.
The door creaked open again.
“Lauren! My superstar!” boomed my father, Oliver, his arms full of wrapped gifts. “How was the trip? Tell me everything!”
She embraced him like the daughter he’d always wanted.
“Sealed the deal. It’s done!”
“Of course you did,” he said proudly. “Bringing you into this family–best move I ever made.”
They shared a laugh, toasted with water glasses, complimented each other like actors hitting their cues.
I lingered off to the side, no more noticeable than the furniture.
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Logan turned toward me, clearly annoyed.
“Well? Don’t just stand there. Go whip something up for your sister. She brought us gifts–the least you can do is cook.”
Lauren strolled over, holding yet another box.
“I didn’t forget you, sis,” she said with a too–sweet smile. “Since you love cooking so much… It’s an apron. Comes with matching oven mitts and measuring cups. Cute, right? You can use it tonight.”
I stared at the box, lips prèssed tight. I nodded faintly.
“Thanks.”
“Say it properly,” my father barked. “What happened to your manners?”
I forced the lump in my throat down.
“Thank you, Lauren.”
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“See?” Oliver grunted. “Stop coddling her, Lauren. She should be grateful–and show it. Now, go cook for us.”
So, I did.
I chopped. I stirred. I fried and scrubbed, all while my body throbbed with pain. No one asked how I was. No one thanked me.
When I finally called them to dinner, the room stayed silent.
Logan broke it first. “Actually, don’t bother. We’re heading out.”
“What?”
“Lauren just locked in a huge deal. We’re going to Eldora to celebrate. That new luxury spot near the harbor.”
Lauren laughed lightly. “You’re going to love it, Logan. I reserved the private balcony–it’s stunning.”
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Then she glanced at me, like an afterthought.
“Wanna come, sis?”
But before I could even speak, Logan scoffed.
“No point. Penelope doesn’t even know what the deal was about. She’d stick out
like a sore thumb. And she doesn’t have the wardrobe for a place like that.”
“She could borrow mine-” Lauren offered, but half–heartedly.
Logan waved her off.
“She’s staying. She’s already behind on the laundry.”
And just like that, it was decided. Lauren smiled. My father laughed. Logan pressed a kiss to Lauren’s hand like it meant nothing.
And I–I was left behind again.
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Alone in a kitchen clouded with steam, quiet as the food cooled untouched.
That night, after washing every dish, folding napkins, and scrubbing the floors, I collapsed on the couch.
I unlocked my phone, needing an escape. I started scrolling–just to feel something other than the dull, throbbing ache.
That’s when I saw it.
A fresh post.
From my son–Enzo.
I tapped on it.
There they were.
At Eldora.
M
Laughing. Toasting. Passing plates. Wine glasses clinking.
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My son. My husband. My father. Lauren. Posing like a flawless family portrait.
And me?
Nowhere.
I stared at the photo, hands shaking.
No caption. No tag. Just the perfect picture of the life I’d been left out of.
I had cooked for them. Loved them. Served them.
And they had erased me. Again.
This time, the tears didn’t come in sobs. They slipped out slowly, worn and quiet.
No theatrics.
Just the silent ache falling from my eyes-
Because no one would ever notice.
