I Was Never Loved

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.

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