Ninety-Nine Favor Coupons—Then I Was Gone

I should've realized a long time ago that my parents didn't love me.

After all, my name was Livia Colton, while my sister was Gemma Colton—the precious jewel of the family.

I rubbed my tired eyes and glanced down at my phone. Messages were pouring into our family group chat.

As I scrolled up, I accidentally tapped on a cash gift. It wasn't much—twenty dollars. My mother, Brianna Colton, had just sent it with a note: [For Gemma to get a milkshake.]

My fingers froze.

I instinctively tried to send the money back, but there was no way to undo it. The transaction was already sitting there in the group chat for everyone to see.

A second later, Gemma sent a voice message, her sarcasm impossible to miss.

"Seriously, Livia? You're taking my milkshake money now? Mom sent that specifically for me. You sure were quick to grab it."

Mom immediately chimed in: [Livia, send the twenty dollars back to Gemma. Her right ear has been bothering her lately, and she just wants something sweet to cheer herself up. Don't fight with her over something so trivial.]

A faint ache stirred in my chest.

Without a word, I sent Gemma twenty dollars and put my phone down.

Almost immediately, I heard her whining from the living room. She had both hands wrapped around Mom's arm, swinging it back and forth as she begged for new clothes now that she'd graduated.

I'd never been allowed that kind of affection.

Maybe I'd been staring too long, because Mom suddenly shot me a look. "Livia, why can't you be more like Gemma? If you want something, just say so. Stop standing around looking miserable all the time. It's pathetic."

Asking for something and actually getting it was a privilege reserved for the favorite child, not me.

In the end, Mom brought me along when she took Gemma shopping. Store after store, she held dresses up against Gemma and bought whatever she wanted.

At the last store, a dress finally caught my eye. It was a simple white dress, exactly the kind I'd secretly loved for years. And for once, it was available in my size.

I gathered my courage. "Mom, can I try this one on?"

Before she could answer, Gemma grabbed the dress and refused to let go. Then she pulled out a brand-new "favor coupon" and shoved it into Mom's hand.

"Mom, I like this one too. I'm using a favor coupon. The dress is mine."

Mom hesitated.

A sales associate nearby tried to smooth things over. "I'm not sure this size will work for you. We have some new styles over here. Would you like to take a look?"

Gemma didn't budge. "So what if it doesn't fit? I like it. Besides, she owes me."

Mom immediately stepped forward and pried my fingers off the dress. When she looked at me, her expression turned cold.

"You're older than she is. Does one more or one less dress really matter that much? Gemma has hearing problems. Whenever she gets upset, her right ear starts ringing and bothering her. Just let her have it."

I stood there, my fingers curling tightly into my palms.

Clothes. School supplies. Snacks...

Ever since we were children, whenever Gemma pulled out one of those favor coupons, I was always the one who had to give in. I even delayed my school enrollment by one year in order to take care of her and be in the same class as her.

The weight of the previous ninety-six times came rushing back.

I swallowed the ache in my throat and asked softly, "Mom, if I were the one with damaged hearing, would you make Gemma give in to me every time too?"

I couldn't stop myself from wondering. What if Mom only loved Gemma more because of her hearing problems?

Mom's eyes flickered at my question. Then her voice rose sharply.

"Why do you have to compete with your sister over everything? It's just a dress. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of something so trivial? Gemma's hearing problems are your fault in the first place. Instead of showing some consideration, you constantly compare yourself to her. How can you be so petty?"

My fault?

Those two words crushed the last fragile piece of hope I'd been holding on to.

When it came to owing someone, Gemma was the only one who ever mattered. What I was owed never even entered the equation.

Just then, Gemma emerged from the fitting room in the dress that didn't fit her, twirling around with a smug smile. As she passed me, she deliberately bumped into my shoulder and lowered her voice to say, "You ruined my hearing, remember? You owe me. That means you should give me whatever I want."

I lowered my eyes and looked away, not arguing again.

On the way home, I took out my notebook and wrote in the ninety-seventh box: [Gave the dress to Gemma.]

Two boxes remained.

I stared through the window at the darkness outside, feeling nothing but emptiness inside.

Once she used those final two coupons, I would leave the small town that had trapped me for eighteen years, and I would never come back.