Voted Out of My Honeymoon

I was packing for our honeymoon when my wife changed our destination to Barrella Island, a place my younger brother, Oliver Wagner, had always wanted to visit. I stopped packing and watched my wife and daughter exchange a knowing glance. "If Dad has a problem with it, we'll settle it with a vote." Whenever my brother and I disagreed, they put the matter to a vote to keep things "fair." For my birthday, I had already booked a table at a steakhouse, but they voted for Oliver's choice of a salad bar instead, calling it the healthier option. The first time our daughter went onstage to accept an award, I waited there all day for the ceremony. Yet when the time came, they voted to have Oliver go up in my place as her father. Later, I discovered that she had even replaced me with Oliver in the family photo she gave her teacher. This time was no different. The vote was two to one, and once again, I lost. My throat tightened with a bitter ache, but I quietly pushed back. "Elle, Eldwater Hollow is where I proposed to you." Eleanor Hearst did not even look up. She continued browsing a group flight deal to Barrella. "Doesn't it have a large body of water too? It's basically the same thing. Why is a grown man making such a big deal out of it?" With that, she booked the deal for three people. "It's only a three-person package. You'll have to buy your own ticket." She had grouped herself, our daughter, and Oliver together, leaving me out. I took off my wedding ring and booked a ticket to Eldwater Hollow. Wherever I wanted to go, I could get there on my own. Chapter 1 Vincent's POV When she saw me buying the tickets, Eleanor's brow relaxed. She ruffled Oliver's hair before coming over to take my hand. "Let's go buy swimsuits, then. Oliver and Gigi squeezed in a few surfing lessons recently. Once we get to Barrella Island, they can finally put them to use." My daughter, Giselle, wrapped her arms around Oliver's leg and said in her sweetest voice, "Uncle Olly will definitely be the most handsome man on the beach." It was rare for our daughter to say anything so sweet. She was always inexplicably distant with me, and her eyes often held a contempt I could never quite understand. In an effort to grow closer to her, I tracked down the food blogger Giselle followed online and learned to cook the dishes she liked. But every time I asked her, full of hope, whether the food was good, she would frown, spit it into the trash, and gag a few times. "Dad's cooking is really gross." The food tasted fine, so I had always assumed it simply did not suit Giselle's tastes. But now I understood. She did not like me, so by extension, she hated everything I did. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and glanced in the rearview mirror. Giselle lay quietly in Oliver's arms. When she noticed me watching, she pulled a face and spat in my direction. Oliver found it amusing and could not resist commenting, "Bro, you and Gigi must have been enemies in a past life. She's the best-behaved kid I've ever seen, yet she just can't seem to get along with you." Eleanor's eyes creased with amusement as she agreed. "Gigi really does like you more. Every year, her birthday wish is for her sunny, handsome uncle to be her dad." The words had barely left her mouth when Oliver's face turned red. He shot Eleanor a shy glance, then reached over and tickled Giselle. "Don't be silly. Your dad's going to be sad." The car filled with laughter and cheer, and every sound stabbed into my heart like a needle. I looked at the child I had cradled in my arms and raised since she was small. Ever since my brother moved into our home, she had never been close to me again. A bitter taste rose in my mouth. Eleanor leaned over and undid my seat belt for me. She seemed to sense my low spirits and kissed the corner of my mouth in reassurance. "It's just a kid's joke. Don't take it to heart." Eleanor had been walking beside me, but once we entered the swimsuit shop, she gradually drifted closer to Oliver. Oliver held Giselle's hand, while Giselle held Eleanor's. The sales clerk greeted them warmly. "Sir, your family of three looks so happy." No one noticed me trailing behind them. No one corrected her or told her that I was the one who actually belonged in that family of three. I watched Giselle pick out swim trunks for Oliver, my eyes stinging. Then, to my surprise, she suddenly walked over to me with a sea-blue swimsuit in her hands, her eyes bright with anticipation. "Dad, you'll definitely look handsome in this." "Hurry up and try it on. Let's see if our daughter has good taste," Eleanor chimed in and ushered me toward the fitting room. Warmth flooded through me. After changing into the swimsuit, I even took a moment to smooth out several wrinkles in front of the mirror. I expected praise the moment I opened the door. Instead, the instant I stepped out, a camera flash went off. Chapter 2 Giselle posted the photo in the family group chat. [Dad looks like a fat pig. That centipede scar on his stomach is so ugly. Why does he always have to embarrass himself like this by stealing the same handsome outfit Uncle Olly picked out?] My hands and feet went cold. Then Oliver stepped out of the fitting room next door in the same swimsuit. Its cut accentuated the clean lines of muscle across his waist and stomach. Every eye in the store turned toward him. "God, this guy's body is unreal. Those abs, that V-line. His girlfriend must be living the dream." "Who's that next to him? Look at all that flab on his stomach and that sagging waist. He looks like day-old pork nobody wanted to buy." I felt as though I had been stripped bare. Helpless, I looked toward Eleanor, but her intense, unwavering gaze remained fixed on Oliver. She did not notice my humiliation at all. The family group chat erupted with laughter at my expense. Someone even joked that I should be sent off to learn sumo wrestling. I fled into the fitting room and struggled to catch my breath. When Giselle was three, she was diagnosed with severe kidney failure. I turned out to be a match, but my body was too weak to meet the requirements for donation. I had no choice but to force myself to gain weight by any means necessary. Ten meals a day was the minimum. I ate until I threw up, then forced myself to eat again. I went from the campus heartthrob who made girls blush to a fat man buried beneath layers of flab. Before the surgery, I asked Giselle if she would stop loving me now that I had become ugly. She burst into tears and told me that, in her heart, I would always be the best dad in the whole world. Even so, I developed severe anxiety about my body and was later diagnosed with moderate depression. Eleanor tried to help me through it. Once Giselle was old enough to understand, she often comforted me too and told me that the marks on my body were proof of my love for her. Now, a wound I thought had healed had been ripped open again, raw and bleeding. The pain tightened around my chest until I could barely breathe. Outside the door, I heard mother and daughter chuckling quietly, clearly pleased with themselves. "That's what Dad gets. Last time, he called Uncle Olly out in the family group chat for leaving his things everywhere. This is his punishment." My legs gave out, and I sank against the wall. I did not open the door until I heard Eleanor call for me to come out so we could head home. As we left the store, Oliver shot me a taunting look and swung the bulging shopping bag in his hand. "Bro, next time you buy clothes, ask me first. If we end up matching, I'm worried you'll embarrass yourself." Giselle burst out laughing and hurried over to take some of Oliver's bags. Eleanor shoved a cheap swim cap into my hands. "You're not exactly young anymore. Anyone can see you have no confidence in your body. Something practical like this suits you better." My nails dug into my palms hard enough to break the skin. I forced down the bitterness that rose in my chest. It was not that practicality suited me. In Eleanor's eyes, I simply did not deserve anything better than a cheap giveaway. Oliver walked shoulder to shoulder with Eleanor and winked at me. "Elle, I still haven't bought sunglasses." Eleanor grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward. "Don't rush home yet. There's still something we need to do." I stumbled back several steps and scraped my arm against the sharp edge of a gift bag. Blood welled up instantly. The sudden sting made me suck in a sharp breath, but neither Eleanor nor Giselle spared me a glance. They simply followed Oliver back into the store. A hushed gasp came from beside me. A little girl who happened to be passing by pulled a bandage from her bag and held it out to me. "You're Moonfang, right?" Something stirred deep in my chest. I nodded hesitantly. The girl gave an excited squeal. "I've seen every one of your photographs. I'm your biggest fan! But you haven't posted anything new in eight years." Ten years ago, I had been a top photographer at the height of my fame. Every photograph I took captured the subject's singular spirit and charm. Eleanor fell in love with my photography and went to great lengths to track down my contact information. She brought me flowers in the morning, a homemade lunch prepared with care at noon, and a cup of hot cocoa in the evening. Her sincerity moved me, and I accepted her proposal. After we married, her career flourished while I divided my time between our home and the wilderness. But Giselle had been frail since birth, and her health eventually forced me to become a stay-at-home father. From then on, I never touched a camera again. I had insisted on going to Eldwater Hollow for our honeymoon because Eleanor once promised that we would take our wedding photos there, in the place where we had fallen in love. She had forgotten the happiness we once promised to pursue together, so I chose to set out alone. Chapter 3 When I said goodbye to the girl, I told her earnestly, "I'll post something soon. I won't keep you all waiting too long." The clack of high heels sounded behind me. Eleanor walked up with a frown. "What exactly are you dawdling for? You won't pick out a swimsuit, and you won't buy sunglasses either. "Put that look away. I promise I'll go with you next time. Isn't that good enough?" When it came to me, it was always next time. For Oliver, it was always right now. When he wanted a new pair of trendy sneakers, Eleanor scoured the entire city and paid a premium to have them sourced, determined to put them in his hands that very day. When I wanted the newest Nikon lens on the market, she promised to have a friend buy it for me. But after I spent a full week waiting in anticipation and finally asked why the package still hadn't arrived, she told me she'd forgotten. To Eleanor, I had long since stopped mattering. Maybe my expression had grown too grim, because her tone softened. "Vincent, he's your brother. Why bother competing with him?" I nodded quietly in agreement. Satisfied, she smiled and leaned against my shoulder as she made another promise. "Once we get to Eldwater Hollow, I'll have my assistant book the best wedding photography studio and makeup artist in advance. "You should lose some weight in the meantime. Only then will you deserve everything I've worked so hard to arrange." Oliver and Giselle came out with their arms full of shopping bags, panting from exhaustion. "Let's head home. We practically bought out the whole store." Eleanor's eyes filled with indulgence as she took the bags Oliver handed her. Rain poured down in sheets, splashing against my legs and soaking the cuffs of my pants. Countless gift bags had taken over both my seat and the passenger seat. Rain hammered against the car windows. Oliver leaned his head out, looking a little sheepish. "Bro, maybe just grab a cab home. There's no room left for you." Without paying the slightest attention to my hand, Giselle slammed the car door shut with all her strength. Pain exploded through my knuckles. I yanked my hand back and stumbled away, but my foot found no solid ground. Half my body plunged into an open manhole in the road. My watch struck the pavement, and its face spiderwebbed with cracks. Eleanor started to get out of the car to check on me, but Oliver spoke up with concern in his voice. "The rain's only getting heavier. If we can't see the road later, it'll be dangerous to drive." She started the engine, tossed out a curt "Take care of yourself," and drove away without a backward glance. Raindrops the size of beans pelted me, each one stinging against my skin. I bit down hard on the soft flesh inside my mouth. Eleanor had specially commissioned this watch from a master craftsman as a gift for our eighth anniversary. As I struggled to steady myself, shards from the shattered watch face dug into my flesh. My love for Eleanor had cut just as deeply over the long years, until it had slowly worn away and we could hardly stand the sight of each other. I took off the watch and picked the shards of glass from my skin, as if I could remove every trace of the love I had carried for her all these years. The downpour soaked me to the bone. Every gust of wind sent a chill through my body. Did Eleanor truly no longer care whether I was cold? I let out a bitter laugh and pulled out my phone to call a cab, only to find that the rain had damaged it. The screen lit up for a moment before going completely black. My watch lay abandoned in the filthy water. I stood beneath the bus stop shelter and waited for the rain to let up. I had no idea how much time passed before the downpour finally began to ease. A woman collecting recyclables called after me, "Hey, you don't want that watch anymore?" I smiled and glanced down at my bare wrist. "No. I don't." Chapter 4 By the time I got home, Eleanor was coming out of the bedroom with a bowl of chicken soup in her hands. My heart sank. I did not ask why she had suddenly decided to cook. Last month, on my 30th birthday, I had begged Eleanor to make me a bowl of my favorite ribs. She had refused without the slightest room for negotiation. "I don't know how to cook," she had claimed. A rare flicker of awkwardness crossed Eleanor's face, and she hurried to explain herself. "Oliver and Gigi both got soaked. I was worried they'd catch a cold, so I made some chicken soup. There's more in the pot. Do you want some?" I glanced toward the kitchen. All that remained in the pot were a few shreds of chicken coated in pepper floating in watery dregs. "No." Giselle let out a disdainful snort and exposed the truth without hesitation. "Mom never made any for you in the first place. She promised her love would only ever belong to me and Uncle Olly." Even though I kept telling myself I no longer cared about Eleanor, I could not stop the ache that spread through my chest. "How did you hurt your hand?" Eleanor's breath caught for a moment before she went to the living room and rummaged through the first aid kit. I still had not forgiven her for leaving me behind in the pouring rain, and I had no desire to accept her kindness. Just as I was about to tell her I was fine, a sharp, prickling pain shot through my wrist, as if ants were biting into my skin. Eleanor covered her nose and mouth in disgust, then liberally sprayed me with disinfectant. "Oliver isn't in good health, and you're filthy. You must have brought all kinds of germs home. If he gets sick, I'll be the one stuck sitting by his bed and taking care of him." Every word struck like a hammer blow and shattered what remained of my heart. I stood frozen as Eleanor doused me with disinfectant three times, followed by alcohol five times, before she tossed a set of sterile clothes at me. Oliver took small, smug sips of his chicken soup and clinked bowls with Giselle in a toast. Then he suddenly rushed into the bedroom and returned with several cameras. "Bro, give me a camera. I want to get some shots on the flight tomorrow." Those cameras had traveled with me across nearly the entire Northern Hemisphere. They were treasured companions I could not bear to part with. "No." Oliver's mouth turned down in a wounded pout, and he looked to Eleanor for help. Eleanor shot me an impatient glare before shoving all the cameras into Oliver's arms. "If you want them, take them. Worst case, I'll just buy your brother more." Oliver raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased with himself. A calculating gleam flashed in his eyes as he pointed to the newest-looking camera in the bunch. "Elle, I'll just take this one. If I take all of them, Bro will be upset." Eleanor smiled. "That's just how kind you are, Olly." I stared at the camera in Oliver's arms. Our initials, mine and Eleanor's, were still engraved on the body. She had forgotten. It was the wedding gift she had given me when we were newly married. Then again, perhaps it was for the best. Someone else had taken it off my hands, which meant I would not have to throw it away myself. Giselle flashed me a wicked smile and shoved the rest of the cameras off the table with all her strength. They hit the floor with a series of heavy, sickening crashes. The cameras shattered into pieces, and even the memory cards came loose. My mind went blank. I crouched down and gathered the scattered parts, pressing the power buttons over and over, but not a single camera would turn on. My dream and my passion had been reduced to a pile of scrap by the people closest to me. The room spun violently around me. I struck the edge of the table, and the pain drained what little strength I had left. I could not even get back to my feet. Eleanor sighed in exasperation and nudged my leg with her foot. "It's just a few broken cameras. Do you really need to put on such a pathetic act? When you're done performing, get up and pack. The flight's at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning." With that, she took Oliver and Giselle back to the bedroom to rest. I lay on the cold floor for a long time before I finally managed to force myself up. Giselle's sweet, wheedling voice drifted from the bedroom. "Uncle Olly, Mommy, sleep with me tonight." I looked at the wreckage scattered across the floor, pulled out my spare phone, connected it to the printer, and printed a divorce agreement. After I signed it, I left it on the table. The bedroom light went out. No one cared whether I was there. I gathered my documents and slipped out without a sound. This was not my home. Eleanor was no longer my wife, and Giselle was no longer my child. I did not want any of it anymore.