Until I Met You

1 | "why don't we start unpacking?"

"This is all your fault."

"Shut up."

"No. You've ruined my entire life."

"Now you're just being dramatic."

"Dramatic? Are you serious? I'm reacting the way any sane person would when their life has been ruined!"

"Are you seriously going to blame me for—"

"Girls!" my father's voice barks from where he sits across from us in the limo, fire burning in his gaze. "Cut that out. Now."

Kendall, my sister, rolls her dark blue eyes, settling her hate-filled glare on me. "She started it."

"Me?" I blink, wondering if she's serious. "How did I start it? You're the one who—"

"Jade!" My mother whips her head around, her weary emerald gaze fixating on me. The look on her face renders me speechless, her angered expression causing a shiver to run down my spine. I know that look. It's my mother's infamous be-quiet-or-else look. "Now isn't the time for you to be starting arguments with your sister. Not after what you've done."

I bite my lip to hold back a sarcastic retort, nails digging roughly into my palms. Kendall shoots me a smirk, evidently satisfied with the fact that our parents are clearly on her side. I'm the oldest sister, though this is hardly obvious considering the way Kendall treats me. She and I have never gotten along, but things have only worsened since my incident. Now my sister doesn't merely dislike me, she hates me. And she likes to remind me of this every chance she gets.

"I said I was sorry," I mumble under my breath, the words hardly audible. My voice cracks, and I curse myself for it. I don't want my family to know how much their resentment toward me is starting to hurt. We've never been close, but now they're purposefully isolating me, and this bothers me more than I'd like to admit.

Kendall shifts in her seat next to me, tucking a strand of perfectly straight blond hair behind her ear with a sniff. My father casts his blue eyes downward onto his silver Rolex, intentionally refusing to meet my gaze. Mother is the only one who holds my gaze, her eyes the same shade of green as my own.

"Sometimes," Mother mumbles coolly, "sorry isn't enough."

"I made a mistake," I argue, blinking back the heated tears beginning to well in my eyes. "Doesn't everybody—"

"You are not everybody," Mother cuts in, her glare searing through my skin and straight into my heart. "You're a Montgomery. And Montgomery's can't afford to make mistakes."

"I'm still a person," I try, knowing it's no use to fight with Mom at this point. Once she has her mind made up, there is no changing it. And now she has her mind made up that she hates me.