The day after I spilled my heart to the school's heartthrob, I caught him kissing my sister.

I switched my college preferences and moved to a new city.

But he found me, against all odds.

His piercing gaze locked on me. "Sarah, I thought you liked me? Why the sudden cold feet?"

I shook my head in denial.

He flashed a coy smile. "But I'm into you, and I wanna hang out together."

***

I finally confessed to Sam Carter right after graduation.

Only to stumble upon him kissing my sister at our complex's gate the very next day.

Emma was all smiles, chatting up Sam, clearly on cloud nine.

Sam was equally engaged, his eyes soft with affection—affection that was once meant for me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and took a hesitant step forward, intent on breaking up their cozy scene.

Unexpectedly, Emma suddenly yanked Sam's wrist, pulling him behind a tree.

Hidden in the shifting shadows, I saw Emma casually wrap her arms around Sam's neck, and he didn't resist.

A weight settled on my chest; I couldn't bear to look anymore and turned to walk away.

Back home, I sat at my desk, clutching a teddy bear, lost in thought.

Out of the blue, Sam messaged me on WhatsApp.

[Did you predict your scores? Let's apply to the same university after the results come out.]

As I stared at the screen, tears welled up, and memories of how Sam and I first met flooded back.

Emma and I attended the same school.

She had been frail since a young illness, always the apple of our parents' eye.

At school, her gentle demeanor drew a crowd of admirers.

Some folks just seem to have all the luck.

It was no secret that Emma and I weren't close.

One time during PE, a boy lobbed a basketball at me hard.

He taunted, "Hey, aren't you the one always picking on Emma? Next time I catch wind of it, it'll be more than just a ball hitting you."

I clutched my throbbing arm, tears unexpectedly rolling down.

Then, a basketball arced beautifully through the air and hit him squarely.

A lazy voice followed.

"Picking on girls? That's low."

I turned and saw Sam bathed in sunlight, his presence a beacon.

He was the first person to ever show me kindness, igniting something deep inside.

From that day, I was always seen at his heels.

I was drawn to the light, and Sam felt like warmth.

He treated me kindly: brought me hot cocoa every morning, tutored me in math and physics, and stood up for me against bullies.

...

Until, unable to hold back, I confessed to him as we graduated.

I received no reply.

Now I knew, silence was his way of saying no.

Just like everyone else, Sam preferred my sister.

I tapped out a message on my phone.

[Let's see how our exams went before planning any further. We might not even end up at the same university.]

I knew Sam had his sights set on a university in New York; initially, that was my top choice too.

But now, I was setting my sights on Chicago.

Emma returned home humming, clearly in high spirits.

She tossed me a dress as if I were her maid.

"Wash this; I'm wearing it for my date tomorrow."

As she dug through her closet, Mom asked her why she was so elated.

Emma emerged from the bedroom, bright-eyed, fluttering like a social butterfly.

"Mom, check out this dress! Isn't it stunning? I'm wearing it for my date tomorrow."

I stood frozen, a strawberry in hand.

Mom laughed lightly and asked, "Who's the date with?"

Emma shot me a smug look.

"He's the hottest guy at school, a total brainiac. We've even decided to attend the same university."

Mom complimented her, "It's beautiful, just like my daughter—she looks good in anything."

Sam texted me: [Got a class reunion tomorrow—will you be there? I need to talk to you.]

I hesitated over my phone.

[Can't, got a shift at work.]

Emma and I are sisters, but she's always been the favored one.

Mom's constant reminder was, "Sarah, let your sister have her way; she's not well."

Whether it was my room or my toys, everything had to be hers, or else I was the unreasonable one.

I learned early on: I couldn't outshine Emma.

Non-compliance meant a harsh reprimand.

Thus, I retreated into my shell, becoming quieter and more solitary by the day.

While Emma, always basking in parental favor, radiated confidence and joy.

She was the outgoing, charming one; I remained the silent type.

Mom and Dad clearly favored her, often ignoring me.

Even after our exams, Mom only asked Emma about her results, treating me as if I were invisible.

Now, they were pushing me to find a part-time job, simply using my adulthood as an excuse to stop supporting me financially.

Though accustomed to the neglect, I nearly broke down when Mom transferred $20,000 to Emma for a "fun and relaxing outing".

Working as a waitress, I bumped into some classmates in a private dining room.

The sweltering summer heat made the back kitchen unbearable without air conditioning; I was drenched in sweat and grease.

Pushing open the room's door, I heard curious voices inside.

"Emma, how come you showed up with Sam today? What's your deal?"

Emma blushed and demurred.

"Nothing really, just happened to be on the same path."

Though she denied it, her tone and demeanor told the whole story.

The room filled with laughter and playful shouts.

Struggling with the heavy door, I appreciated the help from a hand behind me.

It was Sam, fresh from a phone call outside.

Seeing me, his face showed surprise.

I brushed him off with a curt, "Thanks."

After setting the plates down, I turned to leave.

Then a classmate called out.

"Sarah, what are you doing here?"

Emma showed up in a sleek white dress, her makeup on point, giving me a look that screamed discomfort.

She didn't wait for me to start talking, she took the lead, dripping with sarcasm.

"Sarah, bragging about that fancy, high-paying job to everyone, and here you are, waiting tables? Mom's heart would break if she knew."

I almost laughed out loud watching Emma put on her act.

Her dress alone costs a cool $6,000, while I make a measly $2,500 a month.

Did I ever really choose this job?

The classmates around us seemed to get the picture quickly.

"Looks like our genius is moonlighting her way through college."

"She's chosen quite the unconventional way to experience life, huh?"

I nodded, "Go ahead and eat, I gotta run."

But Sam caught up with me, his brow furrowed, "Why the cold shoulder toward me?"

He had bombarded me with messages the day before, none of which I answered.

Recalling that kiss with Emma by the gate, I shrugged off his hand.

"I'm on the clock, Sam. No time for chats."

Home was a whole other kind of storm.

There was my sister, theatrically sobbing on the couch, playing the victim to Mom.

"Why does Sarah have to work where I hang out with my friends? She's clearly doing it to embarrass me and make us look bad."

Mom was all comfort and cuddles with her, all fire and brimstone at me.

After a long day of waiting tables, I was too wiped to argue.

I retreated to my room, closed the door, and blocked out their bickering.

Lying on my bed, I mustered up some self-encouragement, "Hang in there, Sarah. You're almost out of here."

Then the exam results came out.

Emma scored 1360, and our parents celebrated as she had just landed on the moon.

I was, as usual, an afterthought.

The only notification on my phone was from Sam: [I'm downstairs, waiting for you.]

Looking out the window, I saw Sam leaning against a sycamore tree, wearing his casual white tee, stirring up a cocktail of emotions inside me.

Feeling my gaze, he looked up and smiled. That warmth in his smile thawed some of the chills in the air.

I had sworn off dealing with Sam, but at that moment, something inside me snapped.

I bolted downstairs, ready to confront him about his silence to my confession—even rejection would sting less.

What was he really up to with Emma?

Steeling my resolve, I blurted out, "Sam, about that note I left in your book—"

But I was cut off by a familiar, intrusive voice.

"Sam! What are you doing here? Looking for me?"

Emma had escaped our parents' clutches and blocked my view, positioning herself right in front of Sam.

From afar, Mom's voice sliced through the air.

"Sarah, is the laundry done yet? Get back home now!"

Under Mom's watchful eye, I backed up and turned, heading upstairs.

As I walked away, Sam's eyes followed me, deep and probing.

But soon enough, Emma redirected his attention.