Violet's Kiss

I pulled out a blank sheet of paper and began sketching a new jewelry design.

Once I'd mapped out the structure and materials, my pencil started moving almost on its own.

I didn't know how long I'd been at it when I finally looked down.

A delicate ring had taken shape on the page, its band made of fine strands of rose gold, gently intertwined. A platinum violet bloomed at the center, set with a rare purple gem that gave off an air of mystery and quiet luxury.

I named it "Violet's Kiss."

Suddenly, a voice rang out from across the office. "Wow! Melody's got another new design, and it's gorgeous!"

My brows furrowed. A new design?

"Oh my gosh, this is stunning!"

"Charlotte, your sister's so talented. I'm jealous!"

One after another, their voices filled the room with admiration.

Everyone was holding their phones. I picked up mine and opened my social media app.

Right at the top of my feed was Melody's latest post. 'I'll keep working hard to create even more beautiful designs for everyone. This one, "Violet's Kiss," is for you all.'

My heart dropped as I stared at the photo. It was my design, the one I'd just finished sketching. And somehow, Melody had posted it first.

Then, someone passing by my desk grabbed the sheet I'd been working on. "Hey, look! This is the exact same design Melody just posted!"

People crowded around.

"It really is identical!"

My pulse spiked. I started to stand and snatch my drawing back, but someone shoved me away. "Charlotte, don't tell me you're trying to copy your sister's design?"

Gasps and whispers rippled through the office.

"I can't believe it. She always looked so proper, but she's actually a thief?"

Someone's voice rose above the noise. "Come to think of it, Charlotte's old designs all look kind of like Melody's, don't they?"

Before I could react, people started pulling out my past sketches, comparing them to Melody's.

I used the moment to snatch my paper back. "This was mine to begin with. Melody's the one copying me. She always has."

Just then, Melody walked in from the hallway. She stood in the center of the crowd, wearing a short white dress.

Her eyes were red, tears sliding down her cheeks as she spoke in a trembling voice. "Charlotte, why would you steal my work? I know you don't like me, but those designs mean everything to me. I worked so hard on them. Ever since you came home, you've hated me. Is this because you're mad at Mom and Dad?"

Her soft, pitiful tone made everyone's sympathy instantly swing her way.

The air turned heavy with judgment. Someone behind me gave a hard shove.

I lost my balance and fell forward, my head slamming against the edge of a desk. Warm blood trickled down my cheek, dripping onto the floor.

Melody rushed toward me, crouching as if to help, then suddenly fell backward in an exaggerated stumble.

'Oh, come on,' I thought. 'Is she serious? In front of everyone?'

She looked up at me, eyes wide and watery. "Charlotte, why did you push me? I was just trying to help you up."

Everyone ran to check on her instead of me.

Someone pointed a finger at me and barked, "Charlotte, that's too much! You plagiarize and then act violent when you're caught?"

"Exactly! Melody, don't bother with her. Someone that shameless deserves it."

Melody slowly stood, her voice soft and trembling. "No matter what, she's still my sister. I'll be fine."

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I looked her straight in the eye. "I'm sorry, Melody. Come closer. I just want to tell you something."

Melody hesitated, then stepped toward me, still looking wounded and meek.

I smiled sweetly back, and the moment she got close, I slapped her hard across the face. The force sent her sprawling to the floor.

"Oh dear, Melody, how could you be so careless? I only gave you the gentlest little push."

Melody sat there clutching her face, her hair falling forward like a curtain. Through the strands, her eyes glared at me, dark and furious.

Then, as if remembering her audience, she lifted her head again, wide-eyed and innocent.

I'd had enough of her act.

While everyone's attention was still on Melody, I stood up, ignored the murmurs and glares, and walked out, leaving that poisonous crowd behind me.

Breaking Point

I went to the clinic first. The cut on my head was already bandaged.

When I got home, the house was empty. I headed straight to my room, intent on burning every single design sketch I had.

I rifled through my desk and shelves, gathering all the sketches. Soon, they were neatly stacked, every last one accounted for. If this were the case, how had Melody even managed to copy my work? There was no way I had been confused and copied hers by mistake.

Before long, the company chat was buzzing with heated discussions.

'Why keep a leech like her around? Might as well let her go now.'

'Can someone make her leave the company already?'

'And she acts so high and mighty every day, yet she steals other people's designs?'

Reading the insults and outrage, I couldn't help but remember my previous life.

My phone wouldn't stop ringing, each call another wave of anger and ridicule. I pulled out the SIM card, desperate for silence.

When they realized they couldn't reach me, they started tracking down the rental apartment where I was hiding. Cameras aimed, waiting to catch any little slip.

Some even went so far as to hang a banner outside my apartment. 'Plagiarists are shameful. You should just die.'

I stayed inside for over a week, too afraid to step outside.

One night, I slipped through the grass and snuck out. I was starving; the food at home had long been gone. I crouched by the roadside, tearing into a piece of bread.

A passing kid threw his water bottle at me. "Mom! It's that copycat from the news!"

He even spat in my face.

I didn't feel anger or shame. I just smiled at him. His mother quickly dragged him away.

I had had enough.

That night, I sat on the rooftop. My mind felt empty. I looked out at the city, all the lights and honking cars somehow smelling of rot. The only thing I still felt attached to was probably my grandmother in the countryside.

Snapping back to reality, I started packing. I was going home.

I wasn't going to waste my time on these stupid competitions anymore. I sent my resignation to the company email and officially withdrew from the contest.

I still couldn't understand how Melody always managed to produce sketches identical to mine before I even finished mine.

Fine. Then I wouldn't draw at all. Let's see what kind of sketches she would submit without me in the race.