FORCED MARRIAGE WITH BROTHER IN LAW

chapter 53

The house was alive with the sounds of celebration. Laughter echoed through the grand halls, and the scent of marigolds and incense filled the air as preparations for her brother’s wedding rituals began. Guests arrived in droves, their smiles bright, their voices animated as they gushed over the upcoming festivities.

Y/N stood in the corner, watching as the rituals began. Traditionally, the sister of the groom played an important role—performing sacred customs, tying protective threads around his wrist, feeding him sweets before the ceremonies. But no one called her forward.

No one even looked at her.

Instead, her cousins and distant relatives took her place, laughing as they carried out the duties that should have been hers. She didn’t react. She had expected it. She had learned long ago that she wasn’t worthy in their eyes.

But what hurt wasn’t being ignored. It was that she was relieved.

Relieved that she didn’t have to step forward, that she didn’t have to pretend to be part of a family that had never truly wanted her. Instead, she found solace in watching—watching her brother, who smiled so easily, so carefreely.

She wanted to believe he was happy.

That was enough, wasn’t it?

She let herself believe it, allowed herself to feel warmth in the fact that, at least, someone was happy. If her pain meant others could smile, wasn’t that worth something?

But the illusion shattered when her brother finally turned to her.

His voice was loud enough for the nearby guests to hear. “Why are you standing there like a fool? If you have time to stare, at least be useful and bring something to serve the guests.”

A few people chuckled. Y/N didn’t.

She lowered her gaze, nodding silently before turning on her heel.

As she moved toward the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrored walls. The decorations shone around her, the bright colors of the festivities filling the house with vibrance. And then there was her—dressed in a simple outfit, blending into the background like she was nothing more than the house help.

Maybe that’s all she ever was to them.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to ignore the burning sensation in her chest. She had long since learned not to cry.

Instead, she picked up the trays of sweets and drinks and did what was expected of her.

Silent. Invisible. Unnoticed.

And that was okay.

She told herself it was okay.

Because at least someone was happy.

Even if it would never be her.

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