AVA'S POV CONT'D
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There was a knock at the door, and Erica walked in. I quickly wiped my tears, sitting up straighter.
"Can I come in? I come bearing delicious, spicy soup," she said with a soft smile. Rhea chuckled, her heart warming.
Erica, in her sweetness, reminded her of someone— Rhea.
"Well, how can I say no to that?" I replied, and she placed the tray down on the bedside table.
A silence settled over the room, awkward and thick. I was about to speak when she beat me to it.
"I'm so sorry for what I said. You were right—I was being ungrateful, blind to everything you've done."
"No, Erica. I'm the one who's sorry. I should never have called you ungrateful. I said awful things," I whispered, pulling her into a hug.
"Oh my God!" Rhea suddenly exclaimed.
"What?"
"This is the best soup I've ever tasted!" she said, practically inhaling it.
. . .
RINA'S POV
"I'm home," I announced as I stepped into the living room, handing my bag to a maid. But the sight that greeted me gave me pause. Both Mom and Dad stood waiting, stern expressions clouding their faces.
"Mom? Dad? What's wrong?"
"Rina Valerie St. Clair, how could you?" Mom's voice sliced the air. "You're getting out of control."
My brows furrowed. "What did I do?"
"Pushing your twin sister in front of the class yesterday—that's what!" Dad thundered.
I flinched at the volume. "I... I didn't—"
"Don't you dare lie to me! Or so help me, I will descend on you with the wrath of my fathers!" he shouted, his voice cracking like a whip.
I shrank inward. "It was a mistake. I didn't mean to... I can't believe she ratted me out, that little bit—"
"Don't you dare insult your sister," Mom cut in. "She didn't even want us to find out."
"Then who told you?!" I asked, fists clenched.
"That's not important," Dad said coldly. "What matters is that you apologize. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Dad," I murmured.
"Good. Now go to your room and clean up."
I turned away, fury bubbling beneath my skin. I stormed up the stairs, slammed my door shut so hard it echoed downstairs.
"ARGH!" I screamed, sweeping everything off my dresser. My pulse thundered. My parents had never been this angry at me. And it was all because of her.
"I hate you. I hate you, Rhea!"
I waited until the moment I heard her door close, I charged into her room like a storm.
"Rina?" she said, confused.
"You slimy slug!" I screamed, slapping her hard across the face.
"Ah! What was that for?!" she cried, stunned.
"Pretentious little bitch!" I snarled, grabbing a handful of her hair and yanking it as she yelped in pain.
"How DARE you tell Mom and Dad?!"
"Ah! Rina, please! You're hurting me!" she cried. She tried to pull away, but I didn't let go. She never fought back—always weak.
"Rina! Let go of your sister!" our parents burst in, Dad dragging us apart.
"Rhea!" Mom rushed to her side.
"Mom," Rhea sobbed.
I kicked toward Rhea again, but Dad held me back. She tumbled to the ground, and Mom helped her up.
"I hate you all! I wish I never had a twin!"
"Rina!" Mom struck me across the face.
I froze, my hand flying to my stinging cheek.
"Don't you ever say that again!"
"I hate you right now. I can't believe you hit me—for her!"
"You're both my daughters! I hit you because you were wrong!"
I stormed back into my room, slammed the door, and locked it.
I wasn't just angry—I was furious.
"Watch your back, dear sister. You just stepped on the serpent's tail."
. . .
RHEA'S POV
"Are you okay?" Dad asked gently.
I nodded, though my mind was blank. Everything throbbed—my head, my arms, my heart.
"Are you sure?" Mom brushed my hair with soft fingers.
"I'm fine, Mommy. You don't have to worry," I lied. I was aching, more emotionally than physically.
"It's just a fight between sisters, mi amor. It'll pass," Dad said.
"I know. My Rhea is a strong girl. But you should've fought back," Mom added. "I don't want you two fighting, but still—you should've defended yourself."
"I didn't want to hurt her. She's my sister," I whispered with a fragile smile.
Mom held my hand. "I just wish Rina could think like you."
"We'll let you rest, Mijá," Dad said, patting my shoulder.
The moment they closed the door, I finally exhaled the breath I didn't know I was holding.
Rina must be furious. She probably thought I told our parents what happened in class. But I didn't.
I stretched, wincing at the pain. "I need some pain relief," I muttered. I pulled out the first aid kit, took a pill, and drank half a bottle of water.
Off came the glasses. I loosened my braids, undressed, and stepped into the shower. The chilled water poured down, washing away the pain, the tension, the tears.
. . .
The Next Day
Only three St. Clairs sat at the breakfast table—Thomas, Macy, and Rhea. She wore her usual tomboyish look: white flannel, gray pants, side braids, black cap and sneakers.
"Where's Rina?" Thomas asked.
"She'll be down soon," Rhea said. Right then, Rina descended the stairs, each step deliberate.
"Good morning," she said with poison laced in honey. One could still hear the malice in her tone.
"Good morning, Mijá," Thomas said with hope.
Silence followed. Then Thomas cleared his throat.
"Girls, I have something to say."
Rhea blinked. "Oh my God, Dad, are you sick?!"
He chuckled. "No, Mijá—at least I hope not."
"Tell them, Tom," Macy nudged.
"You're going back to Singapore, aren't you?" Rina asked flatly.
Thomas looked at her. "Yes, Mijá."
"I knew it. You always leave." She scoffed.
"When?" Rhea asked, trying to hide the disappointment.
"In two days. Things at the branch are a mess. If I don't fix it, we could lose everything."
"Yes, Dad, we don't want to be broke—but maybe we also want a father," Rina snapped. "I just lost my appetite. Excuse me."
"Rina—" Macy called, but she was gone.
Thomas turned to Rhea. "You've been quiet."
"Rina said it all. Excuse me too," she said, standing.
Thomas sighed. "Where did I go wrong?"
Outside, the limo was gone. Rhea sighed. "She must want to be alone," she whispered, grabbing her bike and riding off.
Today, she didn't want to think about her dad leaving again. She was choosing peace. Just for today.
The breeze was kind, the road alive with color and motion. Cherry blossoms danced in the air as sunlight warmed her skin.
Then she stopped, not noticing a car parked right beside her.
"Huh... Is that Rina? What's she doing?" Paul Stone asked from inside a Mercedes. Aries Mantle sat beside him, quiet but alert.
Rhea had spotted an old woman struggling to cross a wide road. The light was turning green.
She parked her bike and ran toward her. "Let me help, ma'am," she said, lifting the bags from the woman and guiding her.
But time wasn't on their side.
The signal turned green. Cars surged forward. Her cap flew off, her glasses nearly broke. She removed them.
"Whoa... she's so much prettier without the nerd getup," Paul gaped.
"Innocent," Aries said quietly.
"I was gonna say sweet, but yeah. Wait—wait. That's not Rina. That's her twin. The nerd?"
Aries didn't reply. He just watched.
"Aren't they loaded? Why is she riding a bike?"
Then Paul pointed. "Yo—it's Damian!"
A sleek white car had pulled up. Out stepped Damian, dressed head-to-toe in white. He looked effortlessly serene. He walked right into the street, waving at cars to slow down.
"Ouuuu, I gotta get this on video. Stacy's gonna flip," Paul said, whipping out his phone.
Aries clenched his fists.
"Rhea!" Damian called as he reached her.
She turned, heart skipping. "Damian? you shouldn't be here—"