Why the difference in their looks is like night and day?
Mara didnât need to hear the words. She could read the question in Victoriaâs friendsâ eyes. Oh, how sheâd love to know why life seemed so unfair. Why had the gods showered her sister with beauty and brains, leaving Mara feeling like she got the short end of the stick?
Home wasnât home anymore, not when her dad wouldnât shut up about how amazing Victoria was and how good she had been treating Mara.
But the thing was, Mara didnât want Victoriaâs kindness.
Why should she accept hand-me-downs from Victoria who had everything, only to act all high and mighty about it?
To Mara, Victoriaâs help was nothing but a show-off move.
How could it be anything else when Victoria could whip through her own homework and still have time to lay out Maraâs study schedule and gather the best resources? Thatâs not help but a brag in disguise.
ww Just like when they were kids, dressed in identical princess dresses for a party, adults would always flock to Victoria. Theyâd rave about how she was such a stunning little beauty and bound to be a knockout when she grew up.
And when their eyes landed on Mara? Theyâd muster a half-hearted, âWell, isnât she a cute little thing?â
If she could only walk in Victoriaâs shoes for a dayâ¦
That thought haunted Mara more times than she cared to admit.
Sisters by blood, yet worlds apart in the game of life. Why did she have to be the ugly duckling who couldnât morph into a swan?
Mara stood under the giant oak tree, the thought of home souring her mood, but she ha nowhere else to go.
The city was vast, yet not a single corner felt like a sanctuary. Returning home meant facing her fatherâs endless gripes and the ever-present comparisons to Victoria.
Sheâd had enough. The tears she held back in their presence now crashed over her like a tsunami in her solitude.
Tears blurred her vision, and she didnât expect the sudden offer of a handkerchief.
Startled, she looked up to see a tall figure, immaculately dressed in a school uniform that screamed privilege.
08:18 Itâs late. v Mara was puzzled. The person in front of her seemed to know her. She took the handkerchief with a bashful, âThank you, I-â
âWhatâs wrong? Crying so hard your eyes are swelling?â
Mara scoffed, âWhat does it matter if theyâre swollen? Nobody cares about me anyway.â
âWho cares if they donât? The most important person to care about you is yourself.
She stared blankly, âAre you unhappy too?â
His expression was indifferent, âNo. Just remember, no one is more important than yourself. You have to love yourself first before you can expect anyone else to.â
Mara nodded, still in a daze. As he turned to face her, she felt a glimmer of something. He seemed to radiate a light, like a knight with a sword stepping into her life.
âNobodyâs ever said anything like that to me. I guess Iâve been too caught up in feeling sorry for myself.â
Hearing this, he smirked dismissively, âAs long as you know what you want, why should you care about what others think?â
âBut my whole life has been a comparison to others. Iâm always the ânot quite as good asâ Can I really ignore what others think?â
He looked at her, his gaze piercing yet oddly reassuring, âIf you live by their views, youâll never live your own life. Just write your own story.â