01

As I stepped off the plane, a wave of anxiety crashed over me, threatening to drag me under. The humid air clung to my skin like a damp shroud, weighing me down. I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of my own expectations. What would I find when I finally saw my father? Would he still recognize me?

The flight had been a blur of restless sleep and anxious thoughts. I'd replayed every possible scenario in my head, from warm reunions to cold rejections. But nothing could have prepared me for the reality that awaited me.

As I made my way through customs, my heart pounded in my chest. The bright lights and bustling crowds only added to my disorientation. I felt like a ghost hovering on the periphery of my own life.

The drive to my father's estate seemed to take an eternity. I gazed out the window, watching the cityscape give way to manicured lawns and gated communities. The trees seemed to loom over me, casting long shadows that stretched like skeletal fingers.

Finally, the taxi pulled up to the familiar gates, and my stomach twisted into knots. The mansion loomed before me, its grandeur and beauty now tainted by the uncertainty that had grown inside me.

As I entered the foyer, the housekeeper, Mrs. Jenkins, greeted me with a mixture of warmth and wariness. "Welcome home, Miss Emily," she said, her eyes searching for mine.

I nodded curtly, my gaze drifting past her to the girl standing behind her. Sophie. My... sister? The word felt like a lie on my lips. She beamed at me, her smile dazzling, but I detected a glint in her eyes that made my skin prickle.

"Hi, Emily! I'm Sophie! Your sister!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with an enthusiasm that seemed forced.

I didn't return the smile. "I see," I said coolly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Sophie's smile never wavered, but I sensed a flicker of irritation beneath her surface. My father and brother, James, entered the room, their faces etched with concern and disapproval.

"Emily, sweetheart, welcome home," my father said, his voice warm, but his eyes lingering on my expression. "We're glad you're here."

James shot me a disapproving look. "You could at least try to be friendly, Emily. Sophie's part of the family now."

I felt a surge of resentment, but I kept my gaze steady, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll try."

As the days passed, Sophie continued to extend her olive branches, but I remained guarded, unsure of what lay beneath her sunny disposition. My father and brother seemed oblivious to the tension, but the servants' whispers and sidelong glances told me they sensed it too.

I couldn't shake the feeling that Sophie's sweetness was a carefully crafted facade, hiding a darker truth.

The days blended together in a haze of awkward interactions and forced smiles. I struggled to find my place in the household, but every attempt at connection seemed to be met with Sophie's relentless cheeriness. She'd try to engage me in conversations, but I'd respond with monosyllables, unsure of how to break through her facade.

One afternoon, as I was walking down the hallway, I accidentally collided with Sophie, causing her to spill her art supplies all over the floor. She gasped, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Oh, Emily, I'm so sorry! You're always so clumsy!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with insincerity.

I apologized profusely, helping her gather the scattered supplies. But as we worked together, I noticed that Sophie seemed to be manipulating the situation, twisting my words and actions to make it seem like I'd done it on purpose.

The next day, I found myself facing a similar situation. I was walking into the kitchen when Sophie accidentally knocked over a glass of juice, and it spilled all over my new clothes. She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

"Oh no, Emily! I'm so sorry! You're always so mean to me, and now you're ruining my favorite apron!" she exclaimed, her voice loud enough for everyone in the kitchen to hear.

I stood there, stunned, as the kitchen staff rushed to clean up the mess. "I didn't do anything," I protested, but my words fell on deaf ears.

As the days went by, more "accidents" happened, and each time, Sophie would twist the situation to make it seem like I was the aggressor. The household staff began to whisper among themselves, and soon, the rumor mill was churning out stories of my alleged bullying.

"Emily's so jealous of Sophie, she's been picking on her nonstop," I overheard one of the maids say to another.

My father and brother seemed to believe the rumors, too. "Emo, you need to make an effort to get along with Sophie," my father said, his voice stern. "You're making her feel unwelcome."

Unwelcome? I'm the one who-

I felt a knot of frustration in my stomach. "I'm not doing anything," I protested. "These accidents are just that – accidents."

But no one seemed to believe me. Sophie's smile had won them over, and I was left looking like the villain.

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was trapped in a nightmare. Sophie's sweetness was a poison, slowly infecting everyone around me, turning them against me. And I was starting to wonder if coming home was a mistake. But I wanted to come. Mom and Dad weren't divorced, my mother simply chose her career as a singer that's why she went abroad, and I went with her.

The days went by like a blur. It wasn't what I imagined. I wandered through the halls of my own home, feeling like a ghost haunting the shadows. Every room seemed to hold a memory of Sophie and my family laughing together, while I stood on the outside, looking in. I'd see them gathered around the dinner table, their faces lit up with smiles and conversation. Sophie would chime in with a witty remark, and my father and brother would chuckle, their eyes crinkling at the corners.

I, on the other hand, felt like a stranger. A stranger in my own home. A stranger in my own family.

As I watched them, doubts began to creep in. Was I really part of this family? Or was I just an outsider, a visitor who'd overstayed her welcome? I'd see the way Sophie fit seamlessly into their lives, the way they included her in every conversation, every joke. And I'd wonder: was I just a replacement? A substitute for someone else?

The more I watched, the more I felt like I didn't belong. Like I was just pretending to be part of this family, but deep down, I knew I wasn't. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. What if they realized it too? What if they saw through my facade and decided I wasn't worth keeping around?

I started to question my own memories. Has my father and brother always been this close to me? Had they always laughed with me like that? I couldn't remember. All I knew was that I felt like an outsider, looking in.

One evening, as I was walking past the living room, I saw Sophie snuggled up on the couch, laughing with my father and brother. They were watching a movie together, and Sophie was giggling at some joke. My father put his arm around her, pulling her close. My brother smiled at her, and she smiled back.

I felt a pang in my chest. Why didn't they ever do that with me? Why didn't they ever make me feel like I belonged?

I turned away, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Maybe Sophie was the real daughter. Maybe I was just a pretend family member. The thought sent a wave of despair washing over me.

As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was living a lie. That I was just a temporary fixture in this family, and that Sophie was the one who truly belonged. The darkness closed in around me, and I felt like I was losing myself in the shadows.

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