The house was ablaze with light, each room sparkling under the glow of crystal chandeliers and elegant lamps. The atmosphere was vibrant, with guests arriving in a steady stream, their chatter mingling with the clinking of glasses and the soft strains of background music. The clinking of glasses created a rhythmic symphony, a backdrop to the lively exchange of toasts and well-wishes. I watched a video playing on the large screen in the main room. The people in it looked happy and warm. They were celebrating the first birthday of Abigail's daughter.
Abigail hurried over to her parents with the baby in her arms. Her face looked worried.
“Mom, Dad, haven’t you been able to reach her yet?” she asked.
My mother looked at her phone screen, her face unhappy. “She’s always so dramatic. Just because of a trivial issue, she hasn’t contacted us for three years!”
My brother, Alexander, wore a bored expression, his fists clenched tightly. He chimed in, “Why are you asking about her? Have you forgotten? She made you so depressed that you tried to kill yourself. No one wants her here. She’s just a jinx!”