Lyra Vanderbilt has spent most of her life trying to escape the shadow of her perfect half-sister, Brynn. They may share a father, but that's where their similarities end. Now, Lyra's worst nightmare is coming true-she's been roped into helping plan...
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⚠️ TW: Mentions of ED/Body shaming/poor mental health ⚠️
"Thank you for meeting me, sweetheart." My mom says as she takes a seat across from me.
"You said it was important." I shrug.
"And it is- oh sweetheart! You know you should always get light dressing on your salads, look at that thing! It's covered in vinaigrette!" She scoffs and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
"Waiter! Please get her a new salad, LIGHT dressing." She scolds the poor waiter and I give him an apologetic look.
"Alright mother, now that you've criticized my diet choices...again. What can I help you with?"
"You'll thank me one day! And I wanted to talk to you about the wedding."
"What about it?"
"I think you and Ryat should have a summer wedding."
"Well yeah...we were looking at next year-"
"NEXT YEAR?! Are you insane? Do you know how often a man like him comes around? NEVER! The second you bag a man like that, you marry him immediately!" She says and my eyes widen.
"Mom, are you insane? You want us to get married THIS summer? It's already June-"
"Don't worry about that, in case you forgot, our family has some of the best connections in the world. So I was thinking for the color scheme-"
"This is too much...shouldn't Ryat be involved-"
"Men don't care about weddings, they just pay for them."
My jaw drops when she reaches into her tote and pulls out a giant photo album labeled "Brynn's Wedding".
What. The. Fuck.
Someone knock me the fuck out.
All my life, my mother has had my entire life planned out for me.
She's been dictating my life for as long as I can remember.
Screaming at me about food portions.
Judging all the clothes I buy.
Lost her shit when I got a tiny tattoo on my hip.
And her reasoning behind everything: "It's not what men like!"
My mother has never been the independent type, before my dad, she'd been married two other times with other rich men who she ended up getting millions from after the divorce.
From a young age, she's engraved the idea that we women need to be dependent and submissive to men.
Barf.
"You have horrendous shoulders so I think a long-sleeved dress will be beautiful and so elegant." My mother continues while I genuinely contemplate stabbing this fork through my eye.
