Chapter 2

Then there was dead silence. Even Mom's outrage stalled out. Dad crushed his cigarette into the ashtray, lips parting like he might actually say something. But one look at Claire and then at me, and he shut his mouth.

This was a Sterling family dispute about a Sterling engagement, after all.

Dad, the perpetual live-in son-in-law, knew better than to interfere. One wrong word, and Mom would shut him down like always.

Our family never worked right to begin with.

After a loaded pause, Mom finally released Claire and turned to me.

What was she going to say this time?

Would she actually comfort me for once or demand Claire apologize? Or—

She finally said, "Helena, you've got everything. Can't you just let Claire have this?"

Oh, of course. It was always about me giving in.

Claire's tears and her aggrieved look vanished instantly.

She dabbed at her dry cheeks and then ducked behind Mom like some shy fawn as always. But I caught the glint of hope in her eyes.

Dad avoided my eyes. Mom's gaze pressed like a weight. Claire just watched, her innocent act ruined by that telltale curl of her lips.

For a second, the air felt thick, claustrophobic. Like the walls were studded with eyes—cold, unblinking, and hungry—all trained on me. Judging. Waiting.

I shut my own eyes, just for a breath.

I knew it.

Mom and Claire were always like this, never changing.

I know I shouldn't hate my own sister.

But if everyone gets a cross to bear, Claire came bolted to mine.

I was three when my parents had Claire—this tiny, fragile thing. At first, I thought she'd make my already happy life even brighter. I didn't know she'd be the one to shatter it.

At first, I thought she'd make my already happy life even brighter.

I didn't know she'd be the one to shatter it.

Back then, I wasn't much of a talker, but I adored Claire. I'd reach out to hug her, only for Mom to snap, "Helena, stop!" like I was some clumsy monster about to break her.

I didn't get it, but I figured maybe she thought I'd drop her. I was just a kid, after all.

But as Claire grew, the rules got worse.

No competing with her. No saying no when she demanded something. If she shoved me, I had to take it.

Mom always said, "Helena, you're the older sister. You have to give in. Understand?"

I was so confused. Was being the older sister a crime? Could I quit?

The questions piled up, but I couldn't bring myself to ask.

The weight of it all pressed down on me—too many rules and expectations, all swirling together until my mind went numb.

All I ever wanted was quiet. Just me, my notebook, and the clean certainty of numbers.

In a world that felt too loud, too messy, those orderly equations were my only safe place. This was all I needed.

Claire was the one who ruined it—and she enjoyed every second of it.

She'd tear up my notebooks, toss my pencils, and scream at the top of her lungs right in front of me, all on purpose just to get on my nerves.

Her shrieking gave me a splitting headache, and the destroyed notebooks made it even worse. Honestly, everything about that day was just pure torture for me.

That was the one and only time I ever pushed her.

Claire hit the floor, shrieking like the world was ending. Then Mom's palm struck my cheek so hard my vision flashed white.

My left ear drowned in static, but through the ringing, her voice cut clean into my right ear, every word razor-sharp.

Mom said, "You monster! Were you trying to kill my baby?"