After I paid $77,000 for my brother’s wedding, he sent me to the wrong city in Italy “as a joke.” I landed in Naples while they were celebrating in Florence. The next morning, he texted: “LOL, I just didn’t want you there.” My mother added, “This is your fault.” I didn’t argue. I smiled… and sent her a gift—four feet tall, delivered by courier. She called me in tears: “Can I please pay you back?”

Attached was a screenshot from a bridesmaids’ group chat.

And there, in my mother’s words, was the first real crack in the story I’d been told.

Part 4

The screenshot looked fake for the first ten seconds.

Maybe that was my brain protecting itself. Maybe it was just how bizarre it felt to see my mother’s cruelty laid out in a font so casual, in a bubble so soft-colored, as if malice were just another group text housekeeping note.

The screenshot came from a chat called Bellarosa Girls. Eight participants. Little profile pictures in a row. And there, above a string of lipstick emojis and menu chatter, was my mother’s message.

Alyssa won’t be joining us after all. She’s having one of her episodes and thought it would be best not to come. Let’s all be gracious and not make it a thing this weekend.

Episodes.

I read it three times. Then again.