The Unwanted Daughter

When I was five, Mom got pregnant with my sister, and she told me I'd never be lonely again. But after my sister was born, I was shipped off to my grandma's. Just like that, I became the unwanted child.

1.

Grandma passed away when I was thirteen. My parents, having no other choice, brought me back home. At the time, my little sister, Tiffany, who was five years younger than me, threw a fit, screaming at me to get out. She said it was her house.

Mom looked awkward and told me, "Honey, Tiffany's still little, and she doesn't like strangers in the house. Maybe you could stay with your aunt for a while?" It wasn't a request; it was a done deal. Because Tiffany didn't like strangers, I ended up living with my aunt for the next ten years.

When I was twenty-three, I moved back into the Miller home. Tiffany, now eighteen, wasn't so hostile, and was willing to accept me. The day I returned, a couple of guys were carefully bringing a super expensive piano up the stairs. Mom was fussing all over them, like they were handling a Fabergé egg, making sure they didn’t scratch it.

"Now, Sarah, don't try to compete with Tiffany," Mom said, her tone sharp. "Tiffany's always been more talented and mature than you. She got into that fancy music academy. This is her birthday gift. Don’t go thinking you deserve anything like that.” She scowled at me, noticing I was staring at the piano.

“I won’t, Mom, I was just looking," I said, my voice calm.

Tiffany, wearing her earbuds, was glued to her phone on the couch, her fingers flying across the screen. She glanced up at me and then back down at her screen.

Hearing my answer, Mom seemed relieved. She grabbed a glass of water. “Tiffany, honey, try not to look at your phone so much, it's not good for your eyes. Drink some water. It's dry in here.” Mom was all tender and sweet as she handed the water to Tiffany. Her whole face was beaming with affection.

“Mom, you're so annoying! Okay, okay!” Tiffany took the water, gulping it down impatiently.

“Alright! Alright! I’ll stop bugging you. If you need a drink just tell me.” Mom walked away, smiling. That's a smile I'd craved countless times since I was six – a smile I'd never received.

"Why are you standing there like a log? Go to your room and stop bothering Tiffany," Mom snapped when she saw me still there. Her brow furrowed again.

Me, bothering her phone time? I didn't say anything and turned toward my room.

The Millers had moved into this three-story house a few months ago. The second floor had my parents' bedroom and a study. Tiffany had the whole third floor. There were three rooms up there: a music room filled with instruments, and a dance studio for her ballet.

My room? A tiny, converted utility room on the first floor.

2.

That evening, Dad came home and presented Tiffany with a Porsche key – another eighteenth birthday gift. During dinner, Dad boasted that even if they went bankrupt, people would still want to do business with them because of Tiffany. She w...