Seraphina was her mother's stepdaughter, and her father's biological child. Her father had an affair with Leah's mom, and when he left her mother, both Seraphina and her father moved in with Leah and her mother. From the moment they stepped through the door, she became the daughter Leah's mother had always wanted. The one who could do no wrong, the one who received all the attention Leah once had.
And Seraphina wasted no time. With the privileges her stepmother gave her, she took every opportunity to subtly make Leah's life miserable. At first, it was harmless—she'd report that Leah wasn't sharing her toys or that Leah was being rude. Then it escalated. When it was holiday season, she'd get angry that Leah received gifts, claiming Leah didn't deserve them. Seraphina would accuse Leah of hitting her when she hadn't, or stealing her things when I never touched them. It was always something, and Leah was always the one to blame. Each accusation felt like another weight on Leah's chest, another instance of being pushed aside in her own home.
Leah's throat tightened as she struggled to hold back the tears. Her chest felt hollow, the ache unbearable. "I didn't take it," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Why won't you believe me?"
She was her biological daughter. Yet, in this moment, it felt like she wasn't even seen. Seraphina, the beautiful stranger her mother had chosen, was everything Leah could never be. Every accusation, every cold glance from her mother chipped away at something Leah couldn't name.
She was dying, her own body turning against her, and yet it was the least of her worries compared to the suffocating sense of abandonment that weighed on her heart. She had already given up on treatment, certain her mother would never allow her a chance at life. What was the point in fighting for a future when she had no place in this family?
Her eyes blurred with tears, her breath hitching as she finally let it out. The injustice felt like a hot knife in her chest. She had already lost so much, but this… this hurt more than anything.
And then, the sharp sting of a slap across her cheek cut through the air, the force of it sending her stumbling back.
She touched her cheek, the warmth of the tear slipping down her skin mingling with the burn of the strike. She hadn't expected anything less. After all, what was a little more pain to someone who had already been broken?
"I don't want to see your crocodile tears," her mother spat, her voice rising with every word. "Tell me where you hid Seraphina's necklace, you murderer!"
The words were like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last. Leah's mother was angry, yes, but beneath that rage, there was something colder, something more painful. There was a deep-rooted bitterness that had festered over the years, the resentment of a mother who had lost her own daughter in exchange for the perfect, innocent stepdaughter. Her love for Leah had shriveled under the weight of anger, of loss, and now it had been replaced with this, accusations, cruelty, and a complete disregard for Leah's truth.
Her emotions were a tangled mess of guilt and anger, guilt that perhaps she'd never truly loved Leah the way a mother should, and anger at the reminder of all the choices that had led her here. All that remained was an endless cycle of blaming Leah for every misstep, every disappointment. To her mother, Leah was nothing more than a burden, a constant reminder of a life that had slipped away.
Leah's breath hitched as the tears stopped flowing, replaced with a tight knot in her throat. Her voice trembled, but she managed to get the words out, soft and defeated. "I really didn't take it." She was begging for her mother to see her, to believe her for once. But the words hung in the air like fragile glass, easily shattered by the weight of her mother's anger.
Seraphina, ever the actress, stepped forward with an innocent, sugary sweetness to her voice. "Mom, let's check her room. It's not the first time she's stolen. She's not smart enough to keep it anywhere but her room."
Her words were laced with venom, a subtle cruelty hidden beneath her sweet façade. Leah could see it, the wicked glint in Seraphina's eyes, the way she enjoyed seeing her suffer.
"Oh, sweetheart. You're so smart." Her mother's voice softened as she pulled Seraphina into an embrace, the false affection evident in every gesture.
The two of them walked to Leah's room together, the air heavy with unspoken judgment, and Leah's heart sank deeper with each step they took toward her sanctuary.
It didn't take long. Unhappily unsurprised, Leah watched as her mother picked up the necklace from the top of the dresser. It was as if it had always been there, waiting to confirm her guilt. Her heart broke, but there was no one left to hear it.
"You see?" her mother said, her tone almost victorious. She turned to Seraphina, but Leah only felt cold, like her mother's embrace had been reserved for someone else. "I knew she'd do it again."
Seraphina gave a mock pout, but Leah could see the satisfaction flickering in her eyes.
Leah's chest tightened as desperation clawed at her throat. She longed for the smallest glimmer of maternal affection, a whisper of reassurance, but all she felt was cold rejection. Her voice trembled, barely a whisper, "I really didn't take it..."
But it wasn't enough. Her mother's expression remained unchanged, her eyes hard, unsympathetic.
Leah's tears, which had briefly halted, threatened to spill over. She could feel the familiar weight of them pushing against her lashes, and with a choking sob, she let them fall. "WHY WON'T YOU BELIEVE ME? I REALLY DIDN'T DO IT!" Her voice cracked, raw with the weight of everything she had been holding back for so long.
There was nothing but silence in response, a silence that felt suffocating, that pressed against her lungs as she gasped for air. Her chest felt hollow, aching with the unbearable thought that the mother she longed for, the mother who should've been her sanctuary, was now the very one casting her aside.
"Why do you believe a stepdaughter over your own biological daughter?" Leah's voice was hoarse, each word a plea that cut through the bitter air. She had to ask. She couldn't understand. She couldn't wrap her mind around why Seraphina's tears seemed to hold more weight than her own. Why was her existence always the one in question, the one she had to prove worthy of love? The question hung between them like a chasm, too vast for words to bridge.
She didn't need an answer. She knew the truth. Her mother's love was reserved for Seraphina, the perfect daughter, the one who never caused trouble, the one who always did as expected. And Leah was... something else. An afterthought. An inconvenient reality.
The tears flowed freely now, hot and relentless, as Leah crumbled under the weight of it all. Every rejection, every cold word, every unspoken belief that she was less than, that she wasn't enough, it all came rushing out in a torrent of emotion that left her trembling.
But her mother's eyes remained locked on her with an unblinking, disapproving gaze. There was no comfort, no warmth. Only cold judgment. Leah let out a shaky breath, swallowing the sobs that threatened to engulf her. She wasn't sure what hurt more, the betrayal or the realization that no matter how much she cried, how much she begged for just a fraction of her mother's love, it would never come.
Seraphina stood behind her stepmother, her eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and satisfaction. The sight of Leah's despair was exactly what she wanted, and the smugness in her gaze was undeniable. She reveled in the power she had over Leah, enjoying every moment of the control she wielded. For Seraphina, it was all about proving her superiority, and seeing Leah unravel in front of her only fueled her sense of victory.
"Ugh, mom. Now she's fake crying for sympathy after stealing. Let's just leave," Seraphina said, her voice dripping with disdain as she spoke with exaggerated sweetness. Her words were laced with malice, a clear attempt to belittle Leah and make her seem even more pitiful.
The mother smiled at Seraphina, a warmth in her expression that Leah had never once seen directed at her. Without even sparing Leah a second glance, her mother turned and led Seraphina out of the room. The soft click of the door behind them felt like the final nail in Leah's coffin, and as the sound echoed in the empty space.
Leah's breath came in shaky gasps, her chest tight as she sank deeper into the bed, the weight of the accusations still pressing down on her like an iron hand. Tears blurred her vision, hot and unrelenting. She felt like she was suffocating in the silence of her own room, a quiet that was deafening after the shouting, after the feeling of being invisible in her own home.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound cutting through the suffocating air. She barely had the energy to reach for it, fingers trembling as she unlocked the screen. Taylor.
Her eyes skimmed over the message, the words almost too much to process through the fog of her exhaustion and pain. "Girl, big news. Sleepover at my place tomorrow night."
For a moment, the message felt like a distant thing, like something that belonged to someone else. But then, the reality of it settled in, and something in her chest twisted, a sliver of relief pushing through the heaviness. A night away. An escape. A chance to be somewhere else, anywhere but here.