Chapter One: The Perfect Family
The Smith mansion was quiet, save for the soft tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway. The silence was a constant in the house these days. It had settled in like dust after the Smiths adopted Lizzy. Funmi, their biological daughter, had been five at the time, delighted at the thought of having a sister. But as the years wore on, joy began to mingle with resentment, though she never fully understood why.
Today, at seventeen, Funmi stood at her bedroom window, watching Lizzy in the garden below. Lizzy, sixteen and graceful, knelt among the roses, carefully pruning them. Her delicate touch, like she was coaxing life into each petal, made it impossible not to watch.
Funmi's fingers tightened around the edge of the windowsill. Lizzy didn't look like her or her parents. Her skin was a few shades darker, her hair thicker, her eyes a shade of deep, soulful brown that seemed to hide stories Funmi would never know.
In moments like these, Funmi couldn't ignore the strange pang in her chest, a mix of jealousy and guilt. Her parents, despite their occasional gentle reassurances, seemed to watch Lizzy with a different kind of fondness. Perhaps they appreciated Lizzy's sweetness and gentleness—the way she seemed to effortlessly fit into their lives. It made Funmi question her own worth, though she'd never admit it aloud.
Her father's voice echoed from downstairs. "Funmi! Lizzy! Dinner's ready!"
With a reluctant sigh, Funmi stepped away from the window. She took one last glance at Lizzy, who was now gazing up at the window with an expression of soft understanding. It was as though Lizzy could feel the weight Funmi carried, the questions Funmi was too afraid to voice.
Downstairs, the dining room was warm and softly lit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith sat at opposite ends of the long table, their eyes lighting up as both daughters entered. Mrs. Smith, her smile gentle and warm, watched them as they took their seats. She reached over, patting Lizzy's hand as she sat down, then squeezed Funmi's shoulder as if to reassure her, too.
"You've been working in the garden again, Lizzy?" Mrs. Smith's voice was full of pride.
Lizzy nodded, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face. "Yes, I thought the roses could use a little care."
"Those roses are beautiful," Mrs. Smith said softly. "Just like you."
Funmi clenched her fork, trying to keep her voice even. "Maybe I'll help you next time, Lizzy," she said, forcing a smile.
Lizzy looked up, genuinely pleased. "I'd like that, Funmi."
Mr. Smith, noticing the tension, cleared his throat. "So, Funmi, have you decided on your plans for college yet?"
Funmi shrugged, her eyes flicking toward Lizzy, who was watching her intently. "I'm still thinking. I might take a year off to figure things out."
"Oh, that's wonderful, dear," Mrs. Smith replied, her gaze drifting back to Lizzy. "Lizzy's also been thinking of taking a year before college, haven't you, sweetheart?"
Lizzy nodded, and for a moment, Funmi felt as if she were fading into the background, a shadow cast beside Lizzy's light.
Later that night, Funmi lay awake in bed, replaying the evening's events. She knew it wasn't Lizzy's fault. Lizzy was kind and gentle, the perfect daughter. Yet, every day, Funmi felt her resentment growing, creeping up like a dark vine she couldn't shake.
What if she confronted her mother one day, forced her to admit what she'd always suspected—that Lizzy was the daughter they'd always wanted, not her?
She swallowed the bitterness and closed her eyes. One day, she promised herself, she would find a way to be seen. But for now, she'd keep her thoughts hidden, like Lizzy kept the stories hidden behind her eyes.