Chapter 3

"Dad, I brought you lunch. YYou probably haven’t eaten yet.”

Angeline showed up at the station carrying an insulated food container, a woman I didn't recognize trailing along behind her. I couldn't say why, but the instant the woman's scent reached me, my soul began to tremble uncontrollably.

Her eyes were vicious and cold, like something laced with poison.

Frank chuckled, sounding wistful. "Daughters really are the best. Two little sweethearts looking after you. You're a lucky man, Jerry."

Dad let out a cold snort. "Some kids, you're better off never raising at all."

Something in me went dull and gray. I knew exactly who he meant.

Frank's mouth twisted, awkward. "Harper often brings you meals in secret too."

"Nonsense. That's always been Angeline. Harper, thoughtful? I'd count myself lucky if she just stopped causing trouble."

Before Frank could argue the point, Angeline quickly smoothed the guilt out of her expression and hurried forward to take Dad's arm.

"Dad, eat before it gets cold. Besides, Harper can't even boil instant noodles. How would she ever bring you a meal?"

It seemed like every good thing I'd done for Dad over the years had always, automatically, gotten credited to Angeline instead. But I'd taught myself to cook a long time ago, back during all those nights Dad took Angeline out to eat and left me home alone.

Angeline always had some endless excuse ready to make Dad ignore me, so many times I'd lost count. In his mind, I think I'd simply become the daughter who was ungrateful and lazy, useless for anything but eating.

To anyone looking in from the outside, Angeline seemed more like Dad's biological daughter than I did. Even the way he addressed us gave it away. He always used a gentle tone with Angeline.

Dad ruffled Angeline's hair, doting. "If only Harper had half your sense."

Angeline lowered her eyes, playing shy, but I still caught the smug little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"By the way, who's this?" Dad asked, as if he'd only just noticed the stranger standing behind Angeline.

Angeline looped her arm affectionately through the woman's. "This is a housekeeper I just hired. I'm about to leave for school abroad, and I'm worried Harper won't be able to look after you properly."

The moment she said it, everyone in the station started praising Angeline for being so thoughtful and devoted, telling Dad how lucky he was.

Only Frank stayed quiet.

Dad basked in it, answering their compliments with obvious pride, and looked at Angeline like she'd hung the moon.

I'd long since gone numb to how little Dad thought of me. I had to admit, Angeline was good at putting on a show. She clearly relished every moment of being praised, and she never missed a chance to compete with me over something.

Take the study-abroad spot, for instance. It had been mine to begin with. I'd studied around the clock, day and night, hoping for a real shot at something better, hoping to prove to Dad I wasn't some hopeless failure.

Part of me had wanted to get away for a few years, if only so I wouldn't have to watch the two of them play at being a loving father and daughter every single day.

But Angeline had to have whatever was mine. She'd faked being sick just to win sympathy and take that spot for herself, and Dad had handed it over without a second thought.

I remembered it perfectly, the ice in Dad's eyes as he'd looked at me.

He'd said, "There's no point in you going abroad anyway. God knows how you even stole that spot in the first place.

"Might as well hand it to Angeline. She's smarter than you, and she'll go further in life. You'd only cause trouble over there, and I don’t want you embarrassing me abroad."

I'd bitten down on my lip, and whatever light was left in my eyes had gone dark all over again.

Angeline had shot me a look, equal parts triumphant and taunting. I'd wanted to tell her she hadn't even needed the whole performance. All she ever had to do was ask, and Dad would have handed it over anyway.

It had happened more times than I could count. When wasn't it like that?

From something as small as a toy to someone I'd actually loved, whatever Angeline wanted, Dad had always pried it out of my hands and given it to her.

I told myself I was used to it by now. So why did my chest still ache every single time?