My younger brother, David, has always harbored a deep-seated resentment towards me. If you think it stemmed from jealousy, you’d be wrong. He was the favored child, not me. There was no reason for him to be envious.
Our mother always indulged David. He was the golden child. She cooked his meals, did his laundry, and even asked me to help him with his schoolwork. I was expected to assist him simply because we were family, but I never received the same consideration.
However, problems began when he started bullying and mocking me for being different. He would tease me about my height and the fact that I wore glasses. He would sneak into my room, read my diary, and then complain to my mom about what I had written. When I yelled at him, my parents would laugh it off.
His bullying worsened. He put little stones in my cereal, which luckily I found. When I told my mom, she dismissed it, saying, “This is how brothers bond.” During fights, he would zero in on my insecurities, calling me names like “ugly loser” or “hairy monkey.” Another time, he told me to kill myself. That one really hurt, because I was struggling with my mental health at the time.
Things progressively worsened during high school. There was a shocking incident when David attempted to set my hair on fire. Unbelievably, our mother defended him, claiming he was “merely playing.” Thankfully, my dad finally sided with me, pointing out the gravity of the situation and threatening to call the police. This moment was a real eye-opener for David, as he had never faced any consequences for his actions before.
Later, Dad came into my room to talk. He admitted that he had waited for years, hoping David would mature, but he was slowly realizing that David was becoming a bully. Hearing this from my dad was incredibly validating. I confessed everything David had done to me over the years. The next day, Dad spoke to the principal and enrolled me in MMA classes at our local gym, telling me I needed to man up and stand up to bullies.
The MMA classes completely changed my life. One day, David was up to his antics again, stealing the pocket money I had saved. I caught him and demanded he return it. He taunted me, saying all I could do was run to Daddy for help. I don’t know what came over me, but I punched him in the face. He was stunned. I retrieved my money from his pocket before he started crying loudly.
When our parents found out, Dad told David he was lucky I only punched him for stealing because anyone else would have called the police. Following that incident, David began to distance himself from me. He had finally understood that he couldn’t bully me anymore.
I eventually left for my dream university on a scholarship. The first few months were liberating. During my second year, I met my wife, Karen, and we immediately clicked. When we discovered she was pregnant in our final year, we decided to marry right after graduation.
I had always envisioned a monogamous relationship. Karen was my dream girl, and I never wanted to hurt her. However, I later uncovered two incidents of infidelity in our marriage: one was an intermittent affair with her married co-worker, and the other was a brief fling with an ex-boyfriend. Each time, I chose to forgive her. I didn’t want to raise our child in a broken home and believed we could overcome these obstacles.
For a period, things seemed to get better. It’s been four years since her second betrayal, and I felt confident in my decision to give her another chance.
However, three months ago, my world was shattered once more when she revealed she had been having a long-term affair and suggested that our son might not be mine. Her words struck me like a ton of bricks. In a daze, I asked why she had kept such a significant secret. Her reaction was cold and indifferent.
I continued to press Karen for the truth. Ultimately, she admitted it was David.
She explained that she and David had become friends after I introduced her to my family. David, usually cold to me, was warm and polite towards her. Karen wanted to be accepted, so she spent significant time with my mom and started including David in our outings, hoping it would help us bond. One day, David opened up to her about his struggles. He struck up a friendship with her, which eventually escalated beyond her control.
The vision of my wife and brother sleeping together made me feel sick. Karen confessed she felt guilty afterward, which matched her abrupt decision to go home instead of spending New Year’s with me that year. When we met back at college, she was her usual cheerful self, so I didn’t question anything. Two weeks later, we found out she was pregnant. Karen admitted she didn’t know if the child was mine or David’s, and with no way to prove it, she chose to stay with me, knowing I was the more dependable brother.
My world felt like it was crashing down. I asked Karen if she had been sleeping with David recently, and she slowly nodded. She revealed they had always stayed in touch, that their chemistry was “undeniable.” Half of her business trips were actually romantic getaways with him.
I told Karen I was glad she told me the truth, but that I was going to pack up and leave. She started crying, asking for forgiveness. When she realized I wasn’t going to do anything, she changed tactics, saying our son would be affected by a divorce. I reminded her that I might not even be the father, which made her cry more.
I left her crying on the doorstep and checked into a hotel.
The next day, I went straight to my parents and revealed everything. True to her nature, my mother initially tried to defend David. Determined to expose the truth, I asked my parents to remain silent and let me call David in front of them.
When David answered, I confronted him about the affair. At first, he vehemently denied it. However, when I told him that Karen had admitted to everything, he started blaming her, calling her characterless. He claimed it wasn’t his fault if women were attracted to him. I told him firmly that I would expose him. When David mocked me, saying no one would believe him, I scoffed at his arrogance and thanked him for confirming the truth, knowing our parents had heard everything.
David went quiet, then spluttered, trying to explain himself. My mother, still in shock, demanded an explanation. My father, usually reserved, couldn’t contain his disappointment. He asked me to pass him the phone.
“David,” my father began, his voice laden with disappointment, “what you’ve done isn’t just a betrayal of your brother, but a betrayal of this family. Your disregard for your brother’s feelings and the lack of respect for his marriage are unacceptable. From today, you’re cut off from the college funds I set up for you. You’ll have to figure out how to pay your university fees on your own. I will also stop funding your lifestyle. Let’s see how you manage without my money.”
Afterward, my mom approached me and hugged me. In that embrace, there was an unspoken understanding. She apologized for not believing me all this time.
Following this, my dad helped me find a good lawyer to divorce Karen. We also conducted a paternity test, and it was confirmed that David was indeed the father of the child. The news was incredibly painful.
After my divorce was finalized, I felt a sense of freedom wash over me as I moved into my own bachelor pad.
Two weeks ago, my dad called to tell me he was considering changing his will. He didn’t want to leave anything to David. He planned to leave everything to me—his assets, retirement fund, and life insurance, totaling nearly $2 million—ensuring David wouldn’t contest it later. He would leave David only $1.
Somehow, David found out and called me yesterday, trying to make amends. He explained how he was struggling with college and that Karen had been pestering him for child support. He begged me to talk to our family, to start fresh.
I laughed in his face and told him I was done with him. I reminded him that he should have thought about the consequences before sleeping with my wife. He argued that Karen was also to blame, to which I agreed. I reminded him that I had divorced her, making her his responsibility now.
David began to cry, telling me how everyone, including our grandparents and relatives, had turned against him. While this was true, it was no longer my concern. I told him we were done and that he should never call me again.
Since then, I’ve replayed the conversation in my mind. Despite my hatred for him, it did hurt me a bit to see him so helpless.
Update:
It’s been five months since I last wrote. My relationship with my parents has improved. My dad and I go golfing every weekend, and he treats me more like a buddy than a son. Although my mother misses David, she has stayed away from him after my dad made it clear he would not tolerate her helping David behind his back.
The last I heard, David had to drop out of college because he couldn’t afford the fees. He and Karen are living together, and he has a part-time job as a mechanic. They are raising Henry together, which is a good thing, I guess.
I was promoted at my job two months ago, so my salary has significantly improved. I haven’t been dating anyone, as I feel I still need time to heal. I’ve been going to therapy, so we’ll see how that works out.