At My Own Wedding, My Dad Took The Microphone, Said: “Raise Your Glass To The Daughter Who Finally Found Someone Desperate Enough To Marry Her.” People Laughed. My Fiancé Didn’t. He Opened A Video On The Projector And Said: “Let’s Talk About What You Did Instead”

The money was one thing. The words were another.

My father had a way of cutting you down so casually that you almost didn’t notice you were bleeding. He’d say things at family dinners, at holidays, in front of guests—things that sounded like jokes but felt like knives.

“Dalia is still doing something in San Francisco. We’re not really sure what.”

I’m a senior financial analyst. I manage a portfolio worth $14 million. I make $127,000 a year, and I’ve been rated “exceeds expectations” for three consecutive years. But to my father, I was always “doing something.”

“Why can’t you be more like your brother?”

Derek, who still lives in the house Dad bought him. Derek, who’s never had to make a car payment or worry about health insurance. Derek, who got a promotion to vice president of operations at Foster Motors despite having no operations experience whatsoever.

“Good thing you’re pretty. Someone might marry you.”

He said that at Thanksgiving 2023 in front of his business partners. Everyone laughed. I excused myself to the bathroom and cried for ten minutes, then came back and smiled through dessert.

That was my life. Smile through the pain. Don’t make waves. Don’t embarrass the family.

Then I met Marcus.

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