The Smith family's weekend outing to the country club was meant to be a cheerful escape from their routine, but the unspoken tensions simmered just below the surface. Funmi rode with her parents in one car, while Lizzy followed with her own, giving Funmi a chance to avoid Lizzy's effortless warmth that seemed to steal the spotlight at every turn.
The drive to the club was quiet, with Mrs. Smith occasionally glancing at Funmi through the rearview mirror. Her daughter's silence hadn't gone unnoticed, but Mrs. Smith wasn't one to press. Mr. Smith, on the other hand, seemed oblivious, focused on his golf plans and glancing over at Funmi occasionally with a polite smile.
Upon arrival, the Smith family was greeted by familiar faces—members and staff who all seemed to recognize Lizzy and her kindness. Funmi could feel the invisible walls growing higher around her as Lizzy chatted easily with their parents and friends, her laughter carrying over the clinking of glasses and quiet murmur of conversation.
As they settled into their spots by the pool, Lizzy excused herself, offering to bring drinks for everyone. Funmi watched her go, trying to ignore the pang in her chest as her parents exchanged approving looks at Lizzy's consideration.
Turning to her daughter, Mrs. Smith placed a hand on Funmi's shoulder. "You know, darling, Lizzy has been such a blessing to us. We couldn't imagine our family without
her."
Funmi swallowed, her throat tight. "I know, Mom," she replied softly. "I know you both love her."
Mrs. Smith's smile softened, and she reached over to adjust Funmi's hair. "We love you just as much, sweetheart. You'll always be our first, our special girl."
The words felt hollow to Funmi, though she knew her mother meant them. In her heart, she wanted to believe her parents saw her as their "special girl," but every time she saw the effortless way they embraced Lizzy, doubt crept in. She wished, more than anything, that she could feel like she truly belonged.
When Lizzy returned with the drinks, she
placed a glass in front of Funmi and gave her a gentle smile. Funmi tried to return it, but her expression felt stiff. There was so much Lizzy didn't know—so much she couldn't understand.
As the day went on, Funmi watched her sister, trying to pinpoint what it was about Lizzy that seemed to stir something so painful inside her. Was it her kindness? Her ease with their parents? Or maybe it was the fact that Lizzy had a way of making everyone feel seen, while Funmi often felt invisible.
Later, as Lizzy went to join their father on the golf course, Funmi took a moment to slip away from the crowd, needing space to clear her head. She wandered to a secluded area near the gardens, feeling the weight of her isolation pressing down on
her. She felt torn,part of her wanted to lash out, to make Lizzy feel even a fraction of the hurt she carried, while another part of her wished she could find a way to bridge the distance between them.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear Lizzy approach until her voice cut through the silence. "Funmi?"
Funmi turned sharply, startled. Lizzy stood a few feet away, watching her with that ever-present softness in her gaze.
"What are you doing here?" Funmi asked, her tone sharper than she intended.
Lizzy took a careful step forward, her eyes searching Funmi's face. "I was… just wondering if you're okay. You seemed a bit distant today."
Funmi's heart pounded. For a moment, she was tempted to tell Lizzy everything—the resentment, the loneliness, the feeling of being overshadowed. But the words caught in her throat.
"Why wouldn't I be okay?" she replied, crossing her arms. "Just because I'm not as… bubbly as you doesn't mean something's wrong."
Lizzy's face fell, but she didn't back away. "Funmi, I didn't mean to upset you. I just… I want us to be close. You're my sister, and I care about you."
The sincerity in Lizzy's words made Funmi's chest tighten. She wanted to believe her, but the years of feeling overlooked were hard to shake. She took a
breath, forcing herself to stay composed.
"You know, Lizzy," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "sometimes it feels like there's no room for me in this family. You just… you fit in so well, and everyone loves you."
Lizzy took another step closer, her expression softened with understanding. "Funmi, I never wanted to take your place. I know it might feel that way, but you're… you're irreplaceable. I look up to you more than you know."
Funmi's resolve began to crack, her emotions slipping through the cracks. "Then why does it feel like I have to compete just to be seen?"
Lizzy hesitated, a sad understanding
crossing her face. She reached out, her hand hovering near Funmi's shoulder, hesitant but hopeful.
"I'm so sorry if I've made you feel that way," Lizzy whispered. "I never wanted that. And I know… I know I can't change the past, but I want us to be close. I want us to be real sisters."
Funmi stared at her, emotions swirling. A part of her wanted to embrace Lizzy, to accept her apology and put everything behind them. But another part of her—the part that held on to years of hurt—hesitated.
Finally, Funmi managed a small nod, her expression softening ever so slightly. "Maybe. But it's not that easy."
Lizzy's hand fell to her side, and she gave Funmi a gentle smile, as though she understood. "I know. I'm here whenever you're ready."
With that, Lizzy turned and left, leaving Funmi alone once more. This time, however, the solitude felt less stifling. As she stood in the garden, Funmi felt the tiniest spark of hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to heal.