The moment I stepped through the front door, I could feel the tension hanging in the air. Eliana was seated in the living room, one leg crossed over the other, her gaze sharp and expectant. Her polished nails tapped against the armrest of the sofa—a habit she had whenever she was ready to pounce.
I wasn't exactly surprised to see her there—it was typical for her to make a dramatic appearance—but her presence still threw me off. I hesitated at the doorway, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder as I prepared for the verbal jab I knew was coming.
"So," she began, her voice dripping with mockery, "you just ended up—or should I say broke up—with your boyfriend, and now you're with another? How cruel of you, sis."
Her words were sharp, like knives meant to cut deep. My stomach churned, but I refused to let her see how much it hurt. Instead, I shot her a cold look and replied, my voice calm but cutting, "Better than being a slut who chased after her sister's boyfriend and then had the nerve to call her mean."
The air between us grew thick with tension. Her face twisted in anger, the smug smile she wore vanishing in an instant. Before she could retort, our mother's voice came booming from the stairs, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she descended.
"You really are something else, Nelissa—leaving the house for two days without my consent!"
I groaned inwardly, the frustration bubbling up. "It was a night, not two days," I snapped, turning to face her.
"Unfilial child!" she barked, her hands on her hips. Her disappointment cut deeper than Eliana's words ever could.
The frustration, the pain—it all came rushing out like a flood. "You didn't even care to know what happened, did you? All you ever care about is Eliana and nothing more!"
"Nelissa, you…" Mom sputtered, her voice trembling with anger.
"What? I… I what?" I yelled, the words ringing through the house. "All you ever care about is Eliana, so fuck off!"
Without waiting for her response, I stormed up the stairs, my footsteps heavy and loud against the wood. I slammed my bedroom door shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily.
The silence in my room was deafening. My chest heaved as the anger began to fade, replaced by a heavy, suffocating guilt. I shouldn't have said that. She was still my mother, after all.
With a sigh, I walked over to my desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. The pen felt heavy in my hand as I began writing an apology letter. I poured my heart into it, explaining my frustration and asking if she'd join me for a walk to clear the air. Maybe that would help fix things between us.
Later, clutching the folded letter in my hand, I stepped out of my room and made my way toward hers. But as I passed by Eliana's room, I noticed her door was ajar.
My steps slowed. Something about the slightly open door felt… off. My eyes darted to the floor, where a piece of white paper lay, stark against the polished wood.
I hesitated. "It's probably nothing," I muttered to myself. But curiosity pulled at me, and before I could second-guess my decision, I stepped inside.
Her room smelled faintly of lavender, the air crisp and cool from the open window. The space was spotless, as always—every pillow perfectly fluffed, every trinket in its place. But her MacBook was open on the desk, the screen glowing faintly. She must have left in a hurry.
I bent down to grab the sheet of paper and froze. My mother's name was scribbled across the top in bold letters, standing out like a warning.
"What the…?" I whispered, my heart pounding.
I glanced toward the window and saw Eliana walking toward the mansion, her phone pressed to her ear. Panic set in, but curiosity got the better of me. My eyes darted over the paper. It wasn't just random notes—it was a plan. And it involved Mom.
Adrenaline surged through me. I couldn't risk leaving it behind without knowing more. Quickly, I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the paper, my hands trembling. Then, I carefully placed it back where it might have fallen and slipped out of her room, leaving the door ajar.
I hurried down the hall and into Mom's room, my heart still racing. Quietly, I set the letter on the small table beside her bed, ensuring she'd find it later.
But my mind was no longer focused on the letter. Questions swirled in my head. What was Eliana planning? And why was Mom's name at the center of it?
The morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, casting golden streaks across the polished dining table. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm toast filled the air, but for me, it did little to ease the tension knotted in my chest. Breakfast in this house always felt more like a battle of unspoken words and sidelong glances than a peaceful start to the day.
Mom sat at the head of the table, sipping her coffee as her eyes skimmed a magazine. Eliana, as usual, looked effortlessly perfect, her hair cascading over her shoulder as she spread butter onto a piece of toast. I poked at my scrambled eggs, trying to keep my focus on the plate in front of me.
The silence broke when Mom placed her glass of milk down with a sharp clink. Her tone was casual but carried the same edge it always did when she addressed me. "Who dropped this piece of shit?" she asked, holding up the letter I'd left in her room the night before.
My stomach twisted, but I fought to keep my expression neutral. Suppressing the anger rising in my throat, I replied as calmly as I could, "No, it's a letter. I suppose you haven't read it yet?"
She glanced at the folded paper in her hand, a flicker of disinterest crossing her face. "No, I haven't. I'll get to it later."
Just then, Eliana's voice cut in, sweet but dripping with mockery. "What if I read it aloud?"
The air in the room tightened. My hand shot out before I could stop myself, snatching the letter from Mom's hand and sliding it into the pocket of my jacket draped over the chair. "No need," I said coolly, lifting a glass of milk to my lips.
"Ooooh," Eliana drawled, leaning back in her chair with an exaggerated smirk. "I guess that means the letter's from you, then."
I raised my eyes from the glass and locked onto her with a glare that could have melted ice. The corner of her lips curled, clearly enjoying the little game she was playing.
"Oops," she said with a mocking laugh, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Guess I'll just seal my mouth and eat my breakfast."
The tension in my shoulders didn't ease even as she turned her attention back to her plate. My grip tightened around the glass, and I forced myself to focus on steadying my breathing.
I thought about last night—the open door, the draft with Mom's name on it, the picture I had taken. Part of me wanted to tell Mom everything right then and there, to shove the evidence under her nose and finally let her see Eliana for what she truly was.
But as I glanced at Mom, my resolve faltered. She was lost in her own thoughts, her fingers absently stirring her coffee as a faint frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. She looked… distracted, maybe even troubled.
I sighed inwardly. It wasn't the right time. Besides, I didn't have enough information yet. Whatever Eliana was planning, it was bigger than just me or Mom. I needed to figure it out before I made a move.
I set the glass down and quietly finished the rest of my breakfast, ignoring the knowing glances Eliana kept throwing my way.