The Fortune Teller Said I Was Bad Luck, I Brought Them Worse Novel – At 5:30 a.m., my phone rang. It was my brother. “Isabella… the pastor said you might bring bad luck to marriages.” “So?” “Could you… not come to my wedding today?” I held the phone, staring at the wedding bill on the table, $44,000 for the luxury celebration. I laughed. “Sure.” The wedding went on as planned. But when the emcee announced, “Please welcome the bride”, all the vendors turned to my brother in unison. “Mr. Harlow, please settle the remaining balance.” — My phone buzzed before dawn.
The grayish light slipping through the curtains fell on the stack of wedding schedules on my nightstand. Squinting, I reached for my phone. “Gavin” flashed on the screen. “Isabella, are you awake?” Gavin Harlow’s voice was low, with faint background noises, footsteps, muffled chatter. I sat up, rubbing my temples. It was his wedding day. I had stayed up until 2 a.m. checking the final seating chart. Hotel deposits, wedding balances, drink packages, all piled on my desk, color-coded with sticky notes. “I’m up. Planning to head to the hotel to help with setup,” I said, glancing at the clock, 5:40 a.m. “Why are you up so early? The bride’s makeup artist doesn’t arrive until seven.” A long pause.
Too quiet, so quiet I could hear the faint buzz of electricity. “Isabella,” Gavin whispered again, lower this time. “There’s something I… need to tell you.” I swung my legs over the bed, bare feet touching the cool floor. “Go ahead. Is it something with the car arrangements? I know Mr. Henley from the rental company—could add cars last minute…” “Not the cars,” he interrupted, his words quickening. “It’s… about you coming to the wedding today.” I went to the window and drew the curtains.
The streetlights below still glowed, the neighborhood empty. A faint light flickered from a window next door, another house celebrating, I guessed. “What’s wrong with me coming?” I laughed. “Gavin, don’t tell me you’re so nervous you don’t want me to see you in a suit. I’ve seen you wet the bed as a kid, what’s a suit going to do?” “Yesterday, Lily’s family consulted someone who believes you could affect her wedding luck,” he said, icy and precise, hitting my ears like a cold stone. I froze, staring out the window.
The streetlight below clicked off, morning light creeping in. Gray-blue dawn filled the room, falling on the wedding schedule stack. At the top, I had doodled a heart in red pen next to my “sister’s speech” slot. “What did you say?” I asked, my voice calm, though I barely recognized it. Gavin drew in a breath, bracing himself. “Isabella, Mrs. Carter takes it very seriously. Lily… her family is big, gossip spreads fast. So…” “So what?” “So… maybe you shouldn’t come today,” he said in one breath, then rushed on, “Just the ceremony. You can still come for the reception, just not be at the ceremony.
There’s a lounge at the hotel, you can wait there until it’s over.” “Gavin,” I said softly. He paused. “Remember when you were six? Mom and Dad were working late; I picked you up from kindergarten.” “It rained, I didn’t have an umbrella, so I took off my coat and covered you as we ran home. I had a fever for three days, and you stayed by my bed crying, saying I couldn’t die.” Only his breathing on the line. “When you were ten, you got into a fight and needed five stitches on your forehead. Too scared to tell Mom and Dad, so I took you to the hospital, signed the forms, stayed with you while you got stitched.
You gripped my hand so tight, your nails dug into my skin.” “Isabella… don’t—” “During college, I covered half your living expenses. When you first brought Lily home, saying you wanted to marry but had no house, I gave you the down payment I’d saved over eight years for a two-bedroom apartment. You said, ‘I’ll pay you back,’ and I said no, you just be happy.” I turned, back against the window, sliding down to sit on the cold floor. The chill ran up my spine. “And now you’re getting married,” I said. “All the wedding costs—hotel, decor, dress, drinks, favors, invitations—I covered it.
I went three months without buying new clothes, worked late every day, just to give you a proper wedding.” “I know, Isabella. I know all of it.” “You know?” I laughed through tears. “And yet, at 5:40 a.m. on your wedding day, you call me to tell me, because of some pastor’s nonsense, that I shouldn’t come?” “I didn’t want this! It’s her side…” “And what about you?” I cut him off. “Gavin, what do you think?” Silence. A long silence.
Then he said, “Isabella… this is my one marriage. I want… I want it to be right. Lily is the one I love. Her family is my family. Some things… we just endure, and it will pass, okay?” I closed my eyes. Endure. It will pass.