Aurora started to copy me.
She realized that a direct confrontation was useless, so she began to play the victim, too.
One afternoon, the maid brought out a plate of sliced watermelon and handed the first serving to me.
Aurora saw this but said nothing.
A few moments later, she suddenly clutched her stomach, her face pale. “Oh, my stomach hurts so much.”
My mother was instantly concerned. “What’s wrong, Aurora?”
Aurora leaned weakly against the sofa, her eyes red. “It’s nothing, Mom. My stomach is probably just too
sensitive for cold watermelon.”
As she spoke, she glanced meaningfully at the watermelon in front of me.
The implication was clear: Lily gets to eat it, but I can’t. You don’t care about me.
In the past, my mother would have rushed to comfort her and then blamed me or the maid.
But I was a step ahead.
Before my mother could even speak, the fork in my hand clattered to the floor.
I clutched my chest, my face even paler than Aurora’s, my breathing ragged. “Sister… do you… do you think I stole your watermelon?”
‘I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I forgot you have a delicate stomach. A coarse person like me can eat anything.”
‘Please don’t be angry, sister. When you’re angry, I… my chest feels tight, I can’t… I can’t breathe…”
I gasped for air, my hand clawing at my chest as if I were about to suffocate.
‘Lily!”
‘Quick! Call an ambulance!”
The entire family went into a panic.
My father rushed over to help me breathe, my mother held me and cried, and my brother, Julian, dragged Aurora aside, hissing at her, “Aurora! You did that on purpose, didn’t you! You know Lily is fragile, and you still pulled a stunt like that to provoke her!”
Aurora was dumbfounded.
She had a stomachache. I was on the verge of “death.”
How could she possibly compete?
The family doctor was summoned. After a full examination, his conclusion was grave: the young miss had suffered from heart palpitations and respiratory distress due to extreme emotional agitation. She needed complete rest and must not be subjected to any further stimulation.
From that day on, my status in the house was untouchable, like a priceless, fragile artifact.
If I so much as frowned, the entire family would flock to my side, fussing over me.
Aurora was completely isolated.
She became an awkward presence in her own home. Everyone was terrified that she might accidentally shatter the “porcelain doll.”
She wouldn’t accept it.
She knew she had to find a way to get rid of me for good.
So, she orchestrated her masterpiece.
