Bullied By My Fated Mate

NOT CHOSEN “I don’t want a nearby cheaper college!” The words burst out of me before I could stop them. “I want Crestfall!” The dining room went silent and four pairs of eyes slowly lifted toward me like I had spoken in a foreign language. My mother blinked first. “Excuse me?” “I said I applied to crestfall,” I repeated, voice shaking but louder now. “And none of you even care." A short laugh cut through the silence, of course it was Ethan. “Crestfall?” he echoed, leaning back in his chair like I had just told a joke. “Abigail, be serious.” “I am serious.” Emma smirked from across the table, not even bothering to look up from her phone. “She’s been saying that for months. It’s honestly kind of embarrassing at this point.” Ethan nodded instantly. “Plus, Crestfall is insanely competitive. Not really your level.” My fingers curled under the table at that, and something inside my chest tightened painfully, but I forced myself to breathe. “I got accepted,” I said, slower this time. “That’s the point.” That finally got their attention. My father set his fork down slowly. “You applied to Crestfall,” he repeated, like testing the words in his mouth. “Yes," I replied with a rising hope. “You should have asked first.” My jaw tightened. “I didn’t need permission.” That alone made his expression harden and suddenly fear crept inside me. My mother exhaled sharply. “Abigail, you need to be realistic.” There it was again, that word realistic. Something in me snapped. “I don’t want realistic!” My chair scraped harshly as I pushed back from the table as I stood up. “Every time I want something, it’s always be realistic, think practically, and consider the twins—” “Abigail,” my father warned. “No.” My voice rose. “Tell me one time you’ve actually believed I could do something.” Silence crashed heavily across the dining room. Years of hurt rose violently inside my chest all at once. Every forgotten birthday, every achievement ignored, and the moments I stood quietly beside this family feeling like extra furniture in someone else’s house. "When Emma wanted dance lessons, you found the money." Emma's expression tightened but I continued anyway. "When Ethan wanted private tutoring, you found the money." Emma finally looked up, annoyed. “Oh my God, you’re being dramatic.” “Dramatic?” My laugh came out sharp. “I’ve spent my entire life making myself small in this house so nobody has to deal with me, and I’m dramatic?” Ethan rolled his eyes. "So what's the plan?" he asked. "Win the lottery?" “That’s enough.” Mom said as she stood up slowly, but I wasn't done. “I get perfect grades,” I continued, voice shaking now. “I don’t cause trouble. I don’t ask for anything. And the one time I do I'm suddenly selfish?” My father finally stood too, and the entire room changed when he spoke. “Crestfall is off the table.” My breath caught. “What-" “You will not be going there,” he said evenly. “Not now. Not ever.” My mother added immediately, “We have responsibilities, and the twins come first.” Ethan smirked faintly like this was obvious and Emma went back to her phone like nothing had changed. Like I hadn’t just spoken. My father continued, almost bored now. “You can forget Crestfall and you can forget even those nearby cheap schools you keep talking about.” My stomach dropped as I stared at him. “What?” “You will finish high school,” he said. “And then you will be married off. That is the plan.” Silence crashed violently across the room but only inside me, because no one else reacted. They all acted like it was already decided long ago, like I was just late to the conversation. My mother’s expression hardened. “After everything we’ve done for you,” she said coldly, “this attitude is unbelievable.” She said it like raising me meant I was lucky to be there, like I should be grateful just to exist in their house. I laughed once, but there was no humour in it. “Everything you’ve done for me? You mean like forgetting I exist unless I’m doing chores? Or only remembering I’m your responsibility when I’m convenient?” I scoffed. “I didn’t ask for this life." My mother moved suddenly, and then the slap came fast. The sound echoed through the room before I even fully registered it and my head snapped to the side. A ringing silence followed instantly and my cheek burned. Nobody was moved because hitting me was a routine in this house. She lowered her hand slowly, her voice tight. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.” I slowly turned my head back toward her. My cheek stung but I refused to break or cry this time. Something in me just hardened. My mother’s face tightened with anger. “How dare you say that after all we sacrificed for you.” “There it is,” I whispered brokenly. “You always make me feel like loving me was some kind of burden.” My chest hurt that minute, followed by everything else. And suddenly I couldn’t breathe inside this house anymore. I grabbed my hoodie and rushed toward the front door. “Abigail, come back here!” my father shouted, but I ignored him. The cold night air hit my face immediately as I stumbled outside, and tears streamed down my cheeks while I walked blindly down the sidewalk. I didn’t even know where I was going, I just needed to escape. I needed air, needed silence, and needed one place in the world where I didn’t feel unwanted. The streets were mostly empty now, lit only by dim streetlights and passing headlights. My breathing came out uneven as I wiped angrily at my tears. Then suddenly I stopped walking. A few feet ahead, beneath a flickering streetlight, stood an old woman watching me quietly. And the moment our eyes met, a strange chill crawled down my spine.