Chapter 5: The Daughter Who Was Never Chosen
The next morning, I woke up expecting everything to feel different.
It didn't.
The house looked exactly the same.
The kitchen was still the kitchen.
The hallway was still the hallway.
The same pictures hung on the walls.
But something had changed.
The illusion was gone.
For years, I had convinced myself that my family was simply complicated.
That Mia was just spoiled.
That Karen was just protective of her daughter.
That if I tried harder, smiled more, and stayed patient, everything would eventually become normal.
But the truth was much harder.
They weren't misunderstanding me.
They were choosing not to see me.
I walked downstairs and found my father sitting at the kitchen table.
Two cups of coffee were waiting.
One for him.
One for me.
I smiled slightly.
He had always done little things like that.
Things that reminded me I mattered.
"Did you sleep?"" he asked.
"Not really.""
He nodded.
"Me neither.""
I sat across from him.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then he said something I never expected.
"I failed you.""
I immediately shook my head.
"No.""
"Yes.""
His voice was soft.
"I thought providing for you was enough.""
I looked down.
"You did a lot.""
"But I missed things.""
I didn't know what to say.
Because part of me wanted to tell him he wasn't responsible.
But another part of me remembered every moment I felt alone.
Every time I questioned whether I mattered.
My father rubbed his forehead.
"When your mother died, I promised myself I would protect you.""
My eyes burned.
"I know.""
"But somewhere along the way, I became so focused on making this family work that I ignored what was happening inside it.""
I reached across the table and held his hand.
"I should have told you.""
He looked at me.
"What?""
"About everything.""
A painful silence followed.
"The necklace.""
"The project.""
"The little things.""
He looked shocked.
"Why didn't you?""
I swallowed.
"Because I thought you had enough problems.""
That sentence hurt him.
I could see it.
Because I had spent years trying to protect everyone else.
Even when I was the one being hurt.
My father squeezed my hand.
"You never have to make yourself smaller to make other people comfortable.""
I nodded.
But before I could answer, we heard footsteps.
Mia entered the kitchen.
She looked tired.
Not angry.
Not confident.
Just tired.
For a moment, I thought maybe she had changed.
Maybe she finally understood.
Then she spoke.
"Dad, can we talk?""
He looked at her.
"About what?""
She glanced at me.
"I don't think she needs to be here.""
My heart sank.
Of course.
Even now.
My father shook his head.
"No.""
Mia frowned.
"But this is between us.""
My father looked at me.
"No. It involves her, so she stays.""
Mia sat down.
"I know I messed up.""
I waited.
I wanted to hear an apology.
A real one.
But instead, she continued.
"I just think everyone is acting like I'm some horrible person.""
Nobody spoke.
Because she wasn't apologizing.
She was asking to be forgiven without accepting responsibility.
My father noticed too.
"Mia.""
"What?""
"If you want this family to heal, you have to stop explaining why you hurt people and start admitting that you hurt them.""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"You always take her side.""
The sentence shocked me.
Because it revealed everything.
Mia didn't see my father's defense as fairness.
She saw it as betrayal.
"You always loved her more.""
My father stared at her.
"What?""
"You heard me.""
She stood up.
"Ever since I came here, she was the perfect daughter.""
I couldn't believe it.
Because from my perspective, Mia had always been the favorite.
She was the one everyone celebrated.
The one who got excuses.
The one who received endless chances.
But in her mind, she was the victim.
My father looked heartbroken.
"Mia...""
"No.""
She wiped her tears.
"You don't understand.""
Then she looked at me.
"You ruined everything.""
I felt like I had heard those words before.
Except this time, they didn't hurt the same way.
Because I finally understood.
Mia wasn't angry because I had hurt her.
She was angry because she couldn't control me anymore.
She walked away.
But before she reached the stairs, my father stopped her.
"One more thing.""
She turned around.
"I contacted the school.""
Her face changed.
"Why?""
"Because I found out something else.""
My stomach tightened.
"What?""
My father looked at me.
Then back at Mia.
"Your college recommendation letter.""
Mia froze.
"What about it?""
My father's expression became cold.
"It wasn't lost.""
Silence.
"You deleted it.""
My heart stopped.
Because suddenly, another memory came back.
The acceptance deadline.
The missing email.
The confusion.
The panic.
I had blamed myself.
Again.
Mia whispered:
"You can't prove that.""
My father didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because his face told me everything.
He had proof.
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And this time...
Mia had gone too far.
