Chapter 2

After three days, I finally decided to head back. Before going home, I made a call to my mom right in front of my boyfriend, Jason.

The moment Jason heard that Yvonne was having trouble, he immediately tensed up, his brow furrowed with worry. We'd planned to go to the movies, but he changed his mind in a flash.

"Sophia," he said, "how can you even think about going to the movies while Yvonne's this upset? You're her sister—shouldn't you care? I can't believe you're so heartless. I'm disappointed in you.

"Forget the movie. Go get the car. We're going to see Yvonne. And grab something she likes to make it up to her."

I shot him a look like he was a total idiot.

"Jason, have you lost it?" I scoffed. "You're the one who wanted to see the movie, and I haven't even said yes.

"Plus, Yvonne's my sister—not yours. Why are you acting all worked up over her?"

Jason froze, his face a little awkward. Like usual, he was quick to turn everything around and pin the blame on me.

"Can you not make a fuss?" he snapped. "You're my girlfriend—why can't I care about your sister? It's your twisted mind making everything ugly.

"Hurry up and get the car. Stop wasting time, or Yvonne might..."

No way was I sticking around to hear Jason barking.

I turned on my heel and left before he could finish running his mouth.

I deliberately told Jason that Yvonne was having a rough time, but left out all the details—just so I could savor his growing anxiety.

He chased my car, choking on my exhaust fumes. After a long while, he finally gave up. Fuming, he went to hail a cab.

Though Jason was my boyfriend, he didn't give a damn about me.

He was crazy about Yvonne, but she wanted nothing to do with him. So he settled for a backup plan.

He figured if he couldn't be her boyfriend, he'd become her brother-in-law—using family connections to stay close to her.

But what did I ever do to deserve being dragged into this mess?

*****

As soon as I reached the front door, I heard Yvonne inside, crying her heart out. "I'm so ashamed. I can't show my face to anyone. I might as well be dead," she wailed.

Honestly, why didn't she just go ahead?

In my previous life, seeing her like this had made me feel awful. After all, we were both women. I genuinely pitied her and suggested we call the police.

But she just glared at me, hatred twisting her beautiful face.

"Sophia, are you trying to destroy me?" she shouted. "If anyone finds out, how am I supposed to go on? Everyone will mock me!"

Confused, I argued softly, "Then we're letting that scumbag walk free? You're the victim—none of this is your fault. People look down on those who do evil, not the ones who suffer."

But instead of calming down, Yvonne completely lost it, bawling her eyes out even louder.

"I knew it. You just want to see me suffer—you don't really care about me," she cried. "Mom, get her out of here. I don't want to see her."

Mom was livid, jabbing her finger right at my nose as she yelled, "Yvonne is your sister—how could you be so heartless and try to ruin her? What did I do to end up with a daughter like you?"

She kept ranting at me, but I just felt numb and tired—body and soul.

I couldn't figure out how I'd ended up as the villain—I only made a suggestion. If Yvonne didn't want to call the cops, whatever. It was like her getting hurt was my fault.

Honestly, I was the real victim here—what did I ever do to deserve a mom like that?

No way I was letting them put me through that crap again.

I glanced down but didn't see my slippers by the entrance. So, I walked in directly.

This was another of Yvonne's petty schemes to make me feel unwelcome in this house.

She'd tossed my clothes and shoes, smashed my bowls, left me without cutlery at dinner, and snatched up my room, giving some excuse about needing her own study.

She had these tricks down to an art.

If it had been before, it would've upset me. But now, I couldn't care less about this place.

The second Mom saw I hadn't switched into slippers, she started swearing up a storm and came charging at me, ready to take a swing.

I dodged her and yelled, "You threw my slippers out. So what am I supposed to wear? You want me going barefoot in the dead of winter?"

Mom was stunned for a split second—she'd never seen me talk back so loudly before. But soon, her face went dark with anger.

"What are you yelling at? I didn't call you back here to talk back to me. You act all gutsy at home—dare you pull that stunt outside?" she spat.

I scoffed, "No one out there treats me like this. Cut the yelling—tell me why you called me back."

Mom snapped, "Can't you see Yvonne bawling her eyes out? What do you think is going on? Try using your brain for once."

Her spit flew everywhere, and I was honestly repulsed.

In my previous life, these hurtful words would've crushed me. I'd have blamed myself, wondering what I did wrong to make Mom favor Yvonne that much—and then spiraled into endless self-doubt.

But now, I didn't care at all.

Mom was just some illiterate old woman, and Yvonne was a pathetic loser who couldn't even get into a bottom-tier college after two years of trying—all she could do was cry and play the victim.

People like them weren't even worth me wasting another thought or feeling upset.

I said coldly, "But she cries over everything—a bad haircut, stepping on a roach, me not giving her enough cash. How am I supposed to know what's bothering her this time?"

I shot Yvonne a mocking smirk while I continued, "If she's upset because she got knocked up, isn't it a little late? After all, the baby's already three months old."

Yvonne trembled, her eyes flickering as she lowered her head to avoid my gaze.

Just then, Jason showed up.