Chapter 2: The Truth Behind Her Jealousy
Nobody moved for almost a full minute.
The room felt frozen.
Claire stood in the middle of the living room, staring at my father like she was waiting for him to suddenly forgive her.
He didn’t.
“Pick them up,” Dad repeated.
Her lips tightened.
“I said I’m sorry.””
“No, you said nothing,” he replied.
“I didn’t mean for it to be a big deal.””
My hands stopped moving.
A big deal.
That was what she called it.
My grandmother slowly sat back down, looking heartbroken.
“Claire,” she said softly, “do you understand what you did?””
My sister looked annoyed.
“I ripped paper.””
Dad looked at her carefully.
“No. You tried to destroy something that belonged to your sister because you were angry she earned something you wanted.””
Claire’s eyes flashed.
“She gets everything!””
There it was.
The sentence she had been carrying for years.
Dad folded his arms.
“What exactly does she get?””
Claire laughed bitterly.
“Attention.””
I stared at her.
“Attention?””
“Yes.””
She pointed at me.
“Everyone looks at her like she’s perfect.””
I shook my head.
“I’m not perfect.””
“You don’t have to be,” Claire snapped.
“You just have to be you, and everyone loves you.””
The accusation hung in the air.
For a second, I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Because I understood being insecure.
I understood feeling invisible.
But I didn’t understand destroying someone else because of it.
Dad pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Claire, tell me the truth.””
She looked away.
“About what?””
“About why you really did this.””
“I already told you.””
“No, you gave me an excuse.””
The room went quiet.
Dad leaned forward.
“You’ve been angry at your sister for years. Why?””
Claire crossed her arms.
“I don’t know.””
“Yes, you do.””
She stared at the floor.
Then Grandma spoke.
“Claire, when you were little, you used to follow your sister everywhere.””
Claire looked up.
“What?””
“You wanted to be just like her,” Grandma continued.
“You used to tell me you wanted to study like her. Read like her. Win awards like her.””
Claire’s expression changed.
“That was different.””
“Why?””
“Because I was a kid.””
Dad sighed.
“No. It was because you stopped believing you could be enough.””
Claire looked at him sharply.
“You don’t know how I feel.””
“Then tell me.””
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
For years, Claire had been the loud one.
The confident one.
The person who always had something to say.
Seeing her speechless was strange.
Finally, she whispered:
“Everyone expected me to fail.””
Nobody responded.
She continued.
“When teachers talked about our family, they talked about you. When relatives came over, they asked about your grades. Your achievements. Your plans.””
Her voice cracked.
“I became the funny one. The one nobody took seriously.””
I looked down.
I had never known she felt that way.
But then she looked at me.
“And you loved it.””
My eyebrows pulled together.
“What?””
“You loved being the favorite.””
I stood up.
“That’s not fair.””
“Isn’t it?””
“No.””
My voice shook.
“I spent years studying because I wanted a future. Not because I wanted you to feel bad.””
Claire looked away.
Dad stood.
“Your sister’s success is not your failure.””
Claire didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked at the torn pieces of paper.
Then she finally bent down.
Slowly.
She picked them up.
But she didn’t apologize.
Not really.
And somehow, that hurt more.
Later that night, after everyone went to bed, I sat at my desk trying to carefully tape the letter back together.
The scholarship office had already emailed me.
They said the physical copy could be replaced.
But I couldn’t stop staring at the damage.
Because the paper wasn’t the only thing broken.
My relationship with my sister had cracked too.
A knock came at my bedroom door.
I turned.
It was Dad.
“Can I come in?””
I nodded.
He sat beside me.
“I’m sorry.””
“For what?””
“For not seeing what was happening between you two.””
I looked down.
“Did you know she hated me?””
“No.””
He paused.
“But I knew she was hurting.””
I looked at him.
“Then why didn’t you do anything?””
His face fell.
“Because sometimes parents notice the storm after the damage begins.””
That sentence stayed with me.
Then Dad reached into his pocket.
“I found something.””
He placed a small envelope on my desk.
My name was written on it.
But it wasn’t my handwriting.
“What is this?””
Dad looked serious.
“I found it in Claire’s room.””
My heart started beating faster.
“Why were you in her room?””
“She asked me to find her old school documents.””
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a printed email.
My eyes scanned the words.
And within seconds, my confusion turned into shock.
Because the email was from my university.
And it wasn’t about me.
It was about Claire.
At the bottom of the message was a sentence that made my blood run cold.
*“We regret to inform you that your application was withdrawn by request.””*
I looked at Dad.
“Why would the university send her this?””
He didn’t answer.
Because he already knew.
May you like
Someone had withdrawn Claire’s application.
And Claire had been blaming me for something I never did.
