* * * *
"Ha…"
Once again, I woke up. But that's fine. I went through the motions of having breakfast, waking up my sister, going to elementary school for what felt like the umpteenth time, attending classes, and then walking home with her. For the first time, I felt no underlying anxiety—my mind was at peace. Was I always this free?
"Kaya, what's wrong? Did something sad happen?"
What was my sister talking about? There was nothing to be sad about anymore.
"Your pretty face is all ruined with tears. Tell me what happened."
I wasn't crying… was I? Why did my vision blur? Why were there tears? There was no reason for me to cry anymore. I looked up, trying to keep the tears from falling as I replied.
"…I'm not crying. This is just… sweat."
"Let me borrow your phone for a second."
While I was distracted, looking up, my sister deftly took my phone from my pocket.
"There, all done."
"What did you do, Sis?"
I finally wiped my tears away and turned to face her.
"Oh, I just set your lock screen to a picture of me. Here."
She handed the phone back to me, and sure enough, her picture was now on the lock screen.
"Why?"
"I wanted you to remember that I'm always here for you. You're not the type to rely on others, Kaya. So, I want you to think of me when you're alone. Ideally, I wish you'd talk to me about your problems, but I know you tend to bottle things up."
She was right. I had never had many people I could talk to. But the reason I couldn't confide in her was different. I wanted to be her equal, not just her little sister.
When we got home, I went up to my room, but I couldn't muster the motivation to do anything. I had always pushed myself to study, but now, I couldn't find a reason to keep going. After dinner, I took a bath and got ready for bed. Lying there with my eyes closed, I thought about how empty I felt. Even though I was supposed to be free.
Months passed, and as my mind calmed down, I started noticing things around me. My father often came home looking exhausted. I eavesdropped one night and overheard him complaining about work. My mother seemed to be struggling too. I accidentally saw her taking pills one night, and when I checked later, I found out they were sleeping pills. Apparently, my grandmother was dissatisfied because our family no longer held the influence it once did, and she took it out on my mother. That's probably why my mother placed so much pressure on us to be perfect.
So, it's not their fault. I kept telling myself that. It's not their fault.
I decided to distance myself from my sister, thinking that it would help me find some peace. But strangely, she started approaching me even more.
"Kaya, do you need help with any of your studies?"
"Kaya? I'm coming in. What were you up to today?"
"Kaya, what do you want to do today?"
Ever since that day, it seemed like every other word out of her mouth was my name. She was always talking to me. This had never happened in my past lives. Back then, whenever I pulled away, she did the same.
At first, I kept our conversations short because it felt like a hassle, but eventually, she wore me down, and we started talking normally again. Then one day, there was something I wanted to ask her.
"Sis, why do you study?"
I had always wanted to know. What drives her? How is she different from me? If she said it was to meet our parents' expectations, I might have understood. Maybe she just cared more about that than I did. Even if she said she enjoyed it, I would have accepted that I couldn't compete with her. I just needed a reason that made sense to me—something she had that I didn't.
"Well… I used to study because I was told to."
"And now?"
"Now, I study to make you happy, Kaya."
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I said. I want to be able to protect you, no matter what happens."
At that moment, a cold wave of despair washed over me, leaving me numb.
"Get out of my room."
"Why? What did I say wrong? I want to keep talking."
"Just get out!"
I yelled, and reluctantly, she left. Alone in my room, I curled up, trying to suppress the pain that clawed at me from within. I had wanted to understand her, to stand beside her as an equal, not just as her little sister. I wanted to be able to help her too. But to her, I was only someone to protect, not an equal.
From that day on, I stopped talking to my sister. I rejected her completely, until she finally gave up.
And so, with my broken spirit, I faced the entrance exams for middle school—and, unsurprisingly, I failed.