That’s when Bethany escalated. She showed up again. This time, she waited until Emily got home from work and tried to slip in through the door behind her. Emily didn’t scream. She grabbed Bethany by the arm, dragged her into the hallway, and told her if she ever tried that again, she’d call the police.
Then, without warning, Emily grabbed a fistful of Bethany’s hair and shoved her down the hall. No drama, just raw, clean force. Bethany shrieked and stumbled, but Emily didn’t even flinch. She shut the door and locked it like she’d taken out the trash.
Ten minutes later, my phone lit up again. This time, it was my dad. He started the call with a sigh, said, “Look, we need to talk about your sister.” I asked him what exactly he wanted to talk about. He said she was struggling and that I needed to help her, that what she did at the wedding was just emotions and I shouldn’t take it personally, that I was old enough now to be the bigger person. I told him I’d already done that for years.