They say family is where you feel safe.

Loved.

Seen.

I wouldn’t know.

I was born twelve minutes before Silvia.

But it was like I never existed.

Silvia was my non-identical twin — with her perfect smile, sweet voice, and golden glow that my parents adored like the sun itself. And me? I was the shadow behind her spotlight.

From the beginning, all their love went to her.

When she cried, they ran.

When she laughed, they praised.

When she dreamed, they sacrificed.

And when I needed them… they never even checked if I was still breathing.

I remember birthdays where only one cake had a name.

Family photos where I was told to step aside.

Report cards with perfect grades that were left unread.

I tried.

Oh, how I tried.

I cleaned, I obeyed, I studied harder than anyone else. I stayed invisible when told. Smiled when it hurt. Endured the silence. Swallowed the pain. All with one foolish hope:

*Maybe one day… they’ll love me too.*

But my brother—he made it worse.

He was older, colder.

Whenever something broke, it was my fault.

When Silvia cried, he yelled at me.

He never asked if I was okay. He never even asked if it was really my fault.

It never mattered.

Because in their eyes… Silvia was the daughter.

I was just the extra.

The burden.

And Silvia?

She made sure I remembered that.

She wore her crown with pride.

Always reminding me, *“You don’t belong here. You're just lucky they let you stay.”*

She had everything.

Yet it was never enough.

She needed me gone.

And one day… they agreed.

To support Silvia’s big break — her grand shot at becoming an actress — they made a deal with a producer. A man twice my father's age. Rich. Disgusting. Dangerous.

And I was the price.

Their daughter.

Their *other* daughter.

Sold like a thing, to protect Silvia’s dream.

When he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his car, they didn’t stop him.

They didn’t even look away.

They looked relieved.

I couldn’t breathe. My vision blurred.

My chest felt hollow.

This was the family I once prayed would love me.

No more.

I jumped.

From the moving car.

Onto the street, into the night.

Running, bleeding, crying—

Then came the light.

A blinding white.

A truck’s horn.

And silence.

I died at 21. Alone.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

“Wake up! You’re gonna be late!”

A voice.

Familiar.

My eyes opened.

The ceiling above me was the same one I stared at as a child.

My hands—small.

My body—light.

My face—young.

Twelve.

I was twelve again.

I touched my cheeks. My lips. My chest.

I was breathing.

Alive.

Time hadn’t moved forward.

It had *rewound.*

The memories hit me all at once.

Every scar. Every scream. Every silent cry in the dark.

But now… I wasn’t that helpless girl anymore.

This time, I won’t beg for love.

This time, I won’t be the one left behind.

This time… I’ll write *my* story.

Even if I have to burn the past to the ground.

"You're still not ready?"

It was my mother’s voice.

Sharp. Impatient.

Just like I remembered.

I turned slowly toward the door.

There she was—still young, still beautiful. Dressed in her usual soft pastel blouse, hair perfectly tied, makeup light but flawless. Her eyes landed on me, and for a moment… I hoped.

I always used to hope.

But it passed.

She didn’t look at me like a mother seeing her daughter.

She looked at me like an inconvenience.

“Don’t make Silvia late again,” she said flatly. “I don’t want her getting anxious on audition days.”

Ah. So today’s an audition day.

Of course it is.

I looked down at my school uniform. It felt too clean. Too new.

Just like I used to be. Before the years tore me apart.

Downstairs, I heard my father's voice—laughing.

He never laughed like that with me.

And Silvia’s voice—sweet and high-pitched—echoing like music in their ears.

I brushed my hair in silence.

Tied my shoelaces.

Not because they told me to.

Because I needed time to think.

The kitchen smelled like toast and eggs.

I stepped inside and stood by the doorway, watching.

Silvia was already dressed in a cute pink skirt, twirling a spoon in her cereal like a princess. My father handed her a glass of orange juice with a smile that melted me once.

“Good luck today, sweetheart,” he said, ruffling her hair. “Remember, you’re already a star.”

She giggled. “I know, Daddy!”

My mother walked over and kissed Silvia’s head.

No one noticed me.

Not until my brother came down.

He glanced at me once and muttered, “You’re in the way.”

Then walked past, stealing the toast meant for me.

I used to flinch. Apologize. Step aside.

Not today.

I didn’t move.

He looked back. “What?”

I met his eyes. Cold. Unblinking. “Nothing.”

He scoffed and walked off.

I sat down quietly and picked up my spoon.

No one said good morning.

No one asked how I slept.

Just like before.

Only this time… I wasn’t hoping for anything.

I watched them.

Smiling, chatting, fussing over Silvia.

A picture-perfect family.

And me?

The background blur.

But deep down, behind my calm face…

I smiled.

Because I remembered how this story ends.

And this time… I won't be the girl who gets erased.

I finished my breakfast in silence.

No words. No warmth.

I didn’t offer my eggs to my brother like I used to, desperate for scraps of approval.

I just ate.

When I stood up and headed for the door, no one stopped me.

“I’m leaving,” I said, grabbing my bag.

“Walking alone again?” my mother called from the kitchen. “Is this another tantrum?”

“She’s being dramatic again,” Silvia chimed in. “Ignore her, Mommy.”

No one cared why I was going.

No one asked if I was okay.

They never did.

Outside, the wind was cool against my skin.

I used to cry during these walks—quiet tears, hidden under long sleeves and forced smiles.

Not today.

My steps were steady.

My thoughts, louder than the traffic.

How do I escape this family?

How do I run before they sell me again?

Because they would.

I knew that now.

They once gave me away like I was nothing—to an old man, a monster hiding behind a producer’s title—just to protect Silvia’s future.

And when I tried to save myself…

The truck didn’t miss.

But this time…

I was twelve again.

Alive. A second chance.

And I wouldn’t waste it begging for love.

When I reached school, students buzzed through the hallways.

Laughter, footsteps, the clang of lockers.

Then I saw her.

Silvia.

Flanked by her usual orbit of friends—girls with shiny clips and glitter pens—laughing like she ruled the world.

She spotted me instantly.

Her eyes lit up with that familiar gleam—mischievous, cruel, curious.

She stepped forward, voice sweet as syrup.

“Aw, you walked to school alone?” she asked. “Did Mommy finally give up on you?”

I kept walking.

She tilted her head. “Don’t worry, sis. Not everyone can be the favorite.”

I used to smile.

Used to try so hard.

Not anymore.

I walked right past her.

And for the first time in years, she didn’t know what to say.

Inside the classroom, seats were nearly full.

Only one remained.

Back corner.

Right beside him.

Raiyan.

Tall. Intimidating. Always alone.

Rumors clung to him like a second skin—he’d punched a senior, broken a teacher’s chair, scared a kid into silence. No one dared sit beside him.

But there were no other seats.

And to be honest? He was safer than Silvia.

Safer than my brother.

Safer than the parents who gave me away.

He was just a boy with a scary face.

That made him a relief.

He was asleep, arms folded, head resting back against the wall.

I walked over.

Sat down beside him.

Didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate.

Gasps.

Whispers.

Stares.

“She’s crazy.”

“She’s sitting with him?”

“She must want to die…”

Let them talk.

I opened my notebook.

Focused on the blank page.

And started to think.

I need a plan.

I need freedom.

I need… out.

Behind me, Silvia’s voice came again—low and mocking.

“She’s just doing it for attention.”

I gripped my pen tighter.

Let her think that.

Let them all think what they want.

Because the quiet girl they used to ignore?

She’s dead.

This one…

This one’s watching.

And one day…

She’ll walk away for good.

He was still asleep when I sat down.

Head tilted back, one arm folded, the other dangling carelessly off the side of his desk.

I kept quiet.

The whispers around us grew louder.

“She’s really sitting there…”

“She’s gonna regret that.”

“Dead girl walking.”

I ignored them. I’d already survived worse than scary rumors.

But then—

His eyes opened.

Dark. Sharp. Cold.

His brows furrowed the moment he saw me.

“You,” he muttered, voice rough from sleep. “Why are you sitting here?”

I glanced at him, then returned to my notebook. “Because I’m in this class. And this is the only empty seat.”

“You should’ve stayed standing,” he said bluntly.

“Then maybe you should’ve told the school to keep this desk as your personal shrine.”

His jaw tightened. “Tch. You’ve got a big mouth for someone so small.”

“And you’ve got a small brain for someone with such a big reputation.”

He blinked, surprised.

A few students around us gasped.

I didn’t care.

I was done letting people scare me.

But of course… right on cue, she arrived.

Silvia.

Flowing hair, pink ribbon, eyes wide with pretend innocence.

“Oh no…” she gasped softly, stepping between our desks. “Nia, why are you disturbing Raiyan?”

She turned to him, voice honey-sweet. “I’m really sorry about my sister. She’s… different.”

I could almost feel her trying to wrap him around her finger, like everyone else.

“She doesn’t know how to behave sometimes,” Silvia added with a sad little laugh. “It must be hard for you to deal with her.”

I said nothing.

Let her dig her own grave.

Raiyan stared at her. His expression unreadable.

And then—his fist slammed down onto the desk.

BANG.

The whole room jumped.

Silvia flinched, her eyes wide, lips parting like she was about to cry.

“I don’t like it when people interrupt me while I’m talking to my deskmate,” Raiyan growled.

Silvia’s fake smile shattered.

“I— I just—”

“Go back to your seat,” he snapped. “And next time, try minding your own business.”

She stood frozen for a beat, eyes glassy, lips trembling—like she was the victim.

Like she hadn’t just tried to embarrass me.

Then she turned and stormed off, her friends rushing to comfort her like the whole world had collapsed.

I didn't even look at her.

Instead, I stared at Raiyan’s hand.

There were thin red scratches where he’d hit the table. A small bead of blood welled on his knuckle.

“You’re crazy,” I said, digging into my bag. “Why would you slam the table like that?”

“Tch. I’m not bleeding,” he muttered, glancing at his hand.

I pulled out a tiny bandage from the back pocket of my pencil case. “Yes, you are.”

“What are you—?”

“Shut up and give me your hand,” I said calmly.

He blinked.

I took his hand gently, ignoring his stiff posture.

He didn’t stop me.

I wiped the blood with a tissue, then carefully pressed the bandage onto his skin.

All the while, he just stared at me.

“Done,” I said, letting go.

“…Why do you have bandages in your pencil case?”

“In case someone punches furniture like an idiot.”

He gave a small scoff. “You’re seriously weird.”

“You’re seriously dramatic.”

A pause.

Then—he chuckled.

Just a small one. But it was there.

The class started, but he kept sneaking glances at me.

At first I ignored it.

But by the fifth time, I whispered without looking, “If you keep staring at me, people are going to think you’ve fallen for me.”

“Please,” he whispered back. “I don’t fall for girls who act like grannies.”

“I’m sorry, who just got a bandaid from a granny?”

He smirked.

“Do you always fight everyone like this?” he asked under his breath.

“No. Just the ones who aren’t worth running from.”

He tilted his head slightly, still watching me. “You’re… interesting.”

“You’re annoying.”

He laughed again—quietly this time.

At recess, I stood to go.

“Where are you going?” he asked, like a dog pretending not to care when its owner grabs the keys.

“To breathe,” I replied. “Away from you.”

“Hmph. Whatever. Don’t trip on your own pride.”

I walked off, but I swear I saw him watching me leave, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

And maybe I shouldn’t have…

But I smiled too.

Because for the first time in this life—

Someone didn’t look at me like I was a shadow.

Someone saw me.

Someone snapped at Silvia.

Someone let me speak.

And weirdly enough… that someone was a boy everyone feared.

Maybe he wasn’t a devil.

Maybe he was just another soul thrown into the dark.