My Brother Doesn't Love Me novel Chapter 4

Then Matthew came into my life.

He quietly stood by my side throughout high school, bringing me extra layers when it was cold and offering me an umbrella on rainy days...

It wasn’t much, but it made me fall for him deeply.

When I got into college, we officially became a couple.

In the winter of our sophomore year, I baked him a cake for his birthday and braved the freezing cold, traveling over three hours to his city to surprise him.

But the moment I opened the door, my surprise turned into shock.

My boyfriend was in bed with Emily.

The cake fell from my hands, shattering on the floor, just like my heart.

I have no memory of how I made it back to school that snowy night.

Matthew never came after me, never offered any explanation. Instead, he sent me a single text:

"Sophia, you disgust me."

Hurt and confused, I confronted him, asking why.

His response was chilling: "Your brother told me everything. Sophia, you’re nothing but a thief."

In Ryan’s eyes, I had always been the outsider—the one who had stolen the parents and brother that rightfully belonged to Emily.

I had stolen all their love.

Emily, fragile yet resilient like a lone weed, struggled to survive in the family, while I was cast as the cruel sister who had neglected and mistreated her.

I thought my efforts would help this family finally accept me.

But nothing had changed.

I drifted behind them, watching as my brother wiped Emily’s tears, saying, "Emily, you’re the only sister I have. You deserve nothing but happiness."

Of course, after I died, she was the only sister he had left, blood-related or not.

At the wedding, Matthew gave a heartfelt speech, declaring, "In life, we may stumble upon the wrong person, but the path that leads me to you will never falter."

He had always been good with sweet words; I should’ve known.

When we were together, he filled my ears with endless promises, but just seven days after my death, I had become nothing more than an obstacle in his path.

As they shared a tender kiss, the sound of a phone ringing pierced the air.

I floated beside them, watching as the photographer snapped picture after picture of the "perfect family." Emily stood front and center, her smile radiant, shining like a star.

My brother lovingly supported her arm, his gaze fixed solely on her.

What a loving, happy family they were. The guests, caught up in the emotional atmosphere, were wiping away tears as they watched the warm scene unfold on stage.

After the wedding, family and friends scrambled to take pictures with Emily, not because they adored her, but because they knew how much my brother favored her. They all wanted to cozy up to her, hoping to gain something in return.

"It was such a perfect wedding, especially with a certain someone missing," my aunt posted on social media after posing with Emily for a photo.

My uncle commented below, "Don’t even mention that Sophia. She’s rotten to the core, just like her backcountry parents."

They seemed to forget that the so-called "backcountry parents" weren’t mine at all—they were Emily’s.

When I first arrived at this family’s home as a child, I wasn’t treated with much affection, but at least there wasn’t such blatant hostility.

All of the negativity toward me had been carefully planted by my dear brother.

He was so perfect—top of his class, always polite, always warm and kind to others. But when it came to me, he had no problem spreading his dark opinions, making sure everyone believed in my supposed flaws.

Before long, all the relatives knew me as the troublemaker of the Stellar family.

I became the topic of gossip over tea, and people would sigh and say, "What a wonderful family… such a shame."