2-HOMECOMING.

SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW.

“Hello, mother.”

 I said with a wide smile and held the bouquet of roses to her. My mother, dressed in expensive silk, her diamonds almost blinding, glared at me, nothing short of shock in her eyes, as her lips parted, and next thing I knew, the shock disappeared, replaced by a snarl across her lips. I won't lie; that stung. The last time my mother and I shared eye contact, talk less of such proximity without glass between us, was five years ago when I was sentenced. 

“Come on, Mom. Not even a hug for your second daughter.” I forced a smile and tried to act as nonchalant as possible, even though it felt like I’d been gutted. I knew they didn’t like me, but this cold reaction was nothing any child could live with. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” She whispered, her eyes darting behind her now and then as though afraid someone would see me. “How the hell are you even out?”

The smile turned to a frown real quick, my hope dashed as I said, “Mom… you didn’t know I got released? I thought you would have been counting down the days to your daughter finally coming home.”

Because a tiny, broken part of me still thought she might care. That maybe, after five years, she might open her arms to her daughter.

She didn’t.

“Counting down?” She scoffed, and next thing I knew, she pulled me into the house with a harsh grip. “Get the hell in here before someone sees you, you bitch.” I gasped at the shot of pain that hit my knee as I stumbled against the wooden table. 

“Ouch.”

“Oh, please. “You’ve endured prison, haven’t you? Don’t act fragile now.” She snapped. “Why are you out so soon? I thought they usually give those inmates more time than their court sentence.” 

Even as my heart tightened with pain, I stared at her and tried to think of any good memory of my childhood with my mother, the woman who’d stood by my sister after she joined the bullies at school who called my freckles ‘dirt’. I remember she played it off as ‘A joke between kids.’

She’d told me to stop being dramatic, or else she would give me something real to cry about. I did cry myself to sleep that night, and every night after that, because my sister, emboldened by my mother’s support, continued with the bullies, even resorting to stealing my lunch so I was forced to stay hungry all day.

And when I told my mother that, she said, ‘Well, don’t you think she's helping. You need to lose weight, Sunner.’

I was ten at the time. 

Again, I gave her a smile that didn’t reach my eyes; my heart calling out to her to please see my despair and finally act like my mother; “I didn’t do anything to get me in more trouble. So the judge decided I didn’t need the sanction.”

She hissed at that, as though I’d burned her by simply coming out of prison alive. 

“Um….I thought you would be excited to see me again. I even thought you would have been marking dates and all that.” I chuckled nervously. 

Her laugh was sharp enough to cut into my heart. “Counting down? Marking dates?” she repeated, her tone one of absurdity as she glared at me. “Why on earth would I do that, Summer? You brought shame to this family. You expect me to welcome you home with open arms?”

I didn’t kill anyone.” My voice trembled despite my trying to hold the urge to cry. She always hated it whenever I did that…and I never knew why. “You know I didn’t.” 

She crossed her arms and avoided eye contact with me as she said. “The evidence said otherwise.”

“The evidence said Sophia was there too,” I said, my tone turning hard. “She never even visited me, and neither did you.”

“Because she had a future worth protecting! And so did I. Did you really expect us to visit you after you ruined and shamed us all? I would never be caught in such a place meant for degenerates and lowlifes,” my mother snapped, her perfect composure fracturing for the first time, her face turning a shade of red as she hissed at me. “Unlike you. You’ve always been trouble. Always the wrong kind of girl. Drinking, fighting, dressing like a street child!”

I knew she would snap the moment I mentioned her golden daughter. Even as a child, she treated me like I’d blasphemed whenever I spoke out against her precious daughter. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “So prison was my punishment for being a disappointment? Even though I didn’t do it, I did not kill that man, Mom.”

“Don’t call me that.” She jerked as if I’d burned her. 

“Sorry, mother.”

She was about to speak when I heard a soft laugh coming from upstairs. 

I looked up instantly, recognising that voice from anywhere. 

Sophia.

My twin, and my mirror image.

She descended from the stairs, and I took in her appearance. We couldn’t have looked any different. I was dressed in the same worn clothes I was arrested in, while she had on an expensive pink dress, her gold jewellery shining against her skin as she glared at me.

“I’ll call you later.” She whispered to whoever was on the phone and stopped in front of me. 

She looked radiant — her hair curled in loose waves, as her skin shone unlike my dull one, marred with scrapes and cuts from the rough life prison offered. She looked like the angel they’d always said she was, the daughter my mother idolised. 

“Summer?” she said, her tone carefully measured, as she fixed me with a condescending glare. Even she knew she was better than me. “You’re… out.”

“Surprise.” My lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. 

Her expression flickered — first shock, then discomfort, then something that looked dangerously close to fear. But as soon as I saw it, it disappeared, masked by another fake condescending smile. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she said; 

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she said softly, glancing toward our mother, and they shared a secret look. “There’s a… celebration tonight. You’ll just make things complicated.”

My stomach turned into knots. “A celebration?”

Mother stepped between us, her perfume suffocatingly sweet, like the smile she gave me. “Your sister’s engagement party,” she said. “To Kirill Volkov.” At the mention of his name, she beamed with pride and joy, and I swear it felt like her nose turned up instantly. 

The name hit me like a slap. 

Kirill Volkov. 

All I knew about him was from the papers some prisoners snuck in. he was a billionaire, the owner of the largest real estate company in all of Europe, as well as the king of investment funds….basically, he was a god on earth as the papers reported. But I didn’t know what he looked like….no one did, actually. 

I blinked slowly, trying to process it. “You’re marrying him?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” She scoffed with a smirk. “He’s smart, rich, and powerful. Besides, who else would he marry besides me? I’m perfect for him.”

My mother reached for Sophia’s hand and smiled proudly — beaming the way she’d never once smiled at me. “She’s finally bringing honour back to this family,” she said, her eyes glittering with pride. “Unlike you, Summer.”

Something inside me cracked in that moment,

It was the same thing I felt while I heard the judge read my sentence to me five years ago. But this time, it was much stronger and visceral.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was quiet — the kind of breaking that happens in the dark, in silence, where no one can hear it.

I stared at them — my mother, my sister — and realised there was no space left in this house for me.

No forgiveness.

No affection.

No home.

And yet, as my mother fussed over Sophia’s perfect curls, as Sophia slid her diamond ring into the light just so, I felt something else bloom inside me. 

Cold.

Sharp.

Unstoppable.

If love couldn’t bring me back into this family…

Revenge would.

I straightened, forcing a soft smile. “Congratulations,” I said quietly.

Sophia blinked. “You mean it?”

I met her eyes, and the identical green specs stared back at me. But I could see the deception in them, as well as the sheer insecurity.. “Of course I do. After all, you’ve taken everything else that belonged to me.”

Her breath hitched, just slightly, but it was enough to let me know I’d hit something.

Mother frowned and snapped at me again. “Watch your tone, Summer.”

But I was already walking toward the door. My heartbeat was steady now, my hands no longer shook, because I’d come to terms with the hate I’d received.

“You’re right,” I said, pausing at the threshold. “This family does deserve a celebration.”

They didn’t notice the smile that ghosted across my lips — the one I’d learned to perfect behind steel bars.

Because in a few days, when Sophia walked down that aisle in her perfect white gown…

It wouldn’t be her saying “I do.”

It would be me.