Wasn't I Supposed to Be Everyone's Favorite?

The moment the scalding Cajun gumbo splashed onto my leg, I heard the sizzle of my own flesh cooking. Scalding red oil trickled down from my knee, instantly flooding into my shoe.

I shot up from my chair, but it tipped over, and I lost my balance. The back of my head slammed against the edge of the table, and my vision went dark for a second.

I fell to the floor and instinctively reached for my leg. The skin showing beneath the hem of my dress was as red as boiled shrimp, and blisters swelled before my eyes. Over a dozen of them spread from my knee all the way down to my ankle.

The largest blister was about the size of an egg; the skin stretched so thin that I could see the liquid inside wobbling.

It hurt. It didn't just hurt in a normal way. It was the kind of pain that felt like it burned straight through skin and into bone.

My mouth hung open, but no sound came out. Tears streamed down my face as if a dam had burst.

"Oh my God! I'm sorry, Daphne! I didn't mean to!" my sister, Emily Statham, cried from somewhere above me. As always, she sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

Then, the comments floated across my field of vision, golden words flashing in front of me and forming a dense wall.

[Emily is just so cute! She just wanted to give Daphne some gumbo and got a little too excited. This is how she shows her love!]

[Why is the female lead reacting like that? It's just a burn, isn't it? What's with that silent scream? She's scaring Emily.]

[Emily's crying. Why isn't Daphne comforting her? She's such an inconsiderate sister.]

[Yeah. Cut Emily some slack, Daphne. It's not like she did it on purpose.]

I sprawled across the floor, staring at those golden lines of text. The blisters on my right leg continued to swell. The largest one had already burst, and the fluid mixed with blood dripped down my leg.

My whole body was shaking—not from cold, but from pain. Pain that made my teeth chatter, pain that blurred my vision.

"Mom, it hurts… Call an ambulance for me…" I reached a hand out toward Mom. My voice barely sounded human.

Mom didn't move from her chair. She glanced at my leg, frowned, then turned away and wrapped her arms around Emily.

"There, there. Stop crying," she said to her. "Your sister's fine. She's tough. She won't die from getting scalded. Think of how many times she got burned when she was little. Didn't she always heal just fine?"

She patted Emily's back, her voice so gentle it was like she was soothing a toddler. She continued, "You didn't do it on purpose, anyway. She won't blame you. Come on, dry those tears. I'll wipe them for you."

The comments floated past.

[The mother is so gentle. She actually loves the female lead the most; she's just bad at expressing it. Didn't you see her frown? That's how she shows she's devastated! What mother doesn't love her daughter?]

[Daphne is so dramatic. A tiny burn isn't going to kill her. Does she really have to cry for her mom like a baby? She's 22, but she still acts like a child. She's so immature.]

I remained on the floor, staring at Mom's back as she held Emily.

Emily was weeping, her shoulders shaking with every breath. Mom was soothing her and patting her back, pulling tissues from her pocket to wipe away her tears.

Meanwhile, my leg was literally smoking. Blisters burst one after another; the fluid spilled out, mixing with the red oil and running all over the floor.

"Daphne, get up already." My fiance, Elliott Gray, spoke up. "Go run your leg under cool water. Don't cause a scene here. All the guests are watching."

He was at the table, still eating. He hadn't even bothered to get up from start to end. He remained in his seat, his cutlery in his hands and half a plate of food sitting in front of him.

When he glanced at me, I saw a look in his eyes that I knew all too well—a mixture of impatience and contempt.

The comments started up again.

[The male lead is so blunt. He just doesn't know how to handle a burn; it's not that he doesn't care. He's actually freaking out inside! Didn't you see him sneaking glances at the female lead the whole time?]

[He's just embarrassed to show how much he cares in public because he doesn't want people saying he's whipped. Men and their egos.]

[Daphne is such a drama queen. Who calls an ambulance over something this minor? No wonder Elliott finds her annoying. She should learn from Emily. Emily never screams and makes a fuss when she gets burned.]

I looked at Elliott's hands. They were perfectly steady as he reached out to scoop some more food onto his plate.

"Elliott, please… call me an ambulance…" My voice was shaking so hard it barely sounded like mine.

He didn't even look up as he said,"It's not that serious. Just run some cool water over it. The last time Emily burned her hand, she just rinsed it with water and was fine. You're older than she is. How can you be weaker than her?"

When Emily had burned her hand, it had only turned a little red. She'd rinsed it and put on a bandage, yet Mom had fussed over her for three straight days and made her nutritious meals for five.

My leg was scalded raw, and all I got was an impatient command to run some cool water over it.

The comments sounded amused.

[Hahaha! The male lead is so blunt that it's adorable. He's only being this cavalier because he sees the female lead as one of his own. He'd never treat an outsider like this. It proves he trusts her.]

[Daphne is way too overdramatic. Calling an ambulance over something like this? No wonder Elliott's annoyed by her. I would be, too. Who could put up with this nonsense all the time?]

My right leg was already numb from the pain. I braced my hands on the floor and tried to stand, but my palm slipped, and I fell back down.

Broken glass stabbed into my hand. The glass from the cup I'd knocked over earlier had scattered everywhere. Several shards dug into my palm, and blood gushed out instantly from the wounds.

"Daphne, don't move. I'll help you." Emily walked over, bent down, and reached out a hand.

Her eyes were red, tears still clinging to her lashes. She looked so sensible and sweet. But as she reached out to pull me up, her fingers brushed against a freshly burst blister on my leg.

I screamed from the agony, and she snatched her hand back. Then, she sank into a crouch beside me, took one look at my leg, and burst into loud sobs.

"Your leg looks so badly hurt, Daphne! It's all my fault for being so clumsy. You can hit me or yell at me if you want. Just don't bottle everything up…"

The comments were absolutely torn up with sympathy.

[Emily is way too kind. Look at how she's wracked with guilt and crying so hard. She really loves Daphne; she's just a little clumsy. Where else can you find an angel like her?]

[Daphne, just forgive Emily already. She didn't do it on purpose. You're only going to make her feel worse by staying quiet like this. Look at how she can barely breathe through her sobs. How can you just lie there and watch?]

[The female lead is so lucky to have a sister like Emily. I'm totally jealous of her. If Emily were my sister, I'd love her and dote on her to no end. No way I'd blame her for anything. The female lead is just so petty.]

I looked at Emily. Her tears dripped onto the floor, mixing with my blood. She cried so genuinely and beautifully; no wonder everyone's hearts went out to her.

But I remembered her crying in the exact same way when she "accidentally" poured boiling water on my hand last year, giving me second-degree burns and a hand covered in blisters.

The year before last, she'd "accidentally" pushed me down the stairs, leaving me with a fractured tailbone. I'd been bedridden for three months. She'd cried then, too.

And the year before that, she'd "accidentally" torn up my college acceptance letter, costing me the chance to attend my dream school. She'd also cried like this then.

Each time, she somehow cried harder than me, the person she hurt. Each time, everyone comforted her first. Then, they pushed the blame on me.

"Daphne, are you getting up or not?" Mom finally looked at me, but there was no concern in her eyes—only impatience.

She checked her watch, and her frown deepened. "Look at how hard Emily is crying. What more do you want? This was supposed to be a nice birthday party, and you've turned it into this mess. All our family and friends are here. Don't you realize how humiliating this is?"

Birthday party. It was Emily's birthday that day. I had over 30 blisters on my leg from being scalded, and Mom called this a "nice birthday party".

The comments rolled in.

[The female lead really has no sense at all. Emily already apologized. What more does she want? The whole family to get down on their knees and beg? Does she think she's that special? As the older sister, she should learn to be more forgiving. That's how a family stays peaceful.]

[Daphne is just too selfish. She only ever thinks about herself and never about her family.]

I lay on the floor, staring at those golden words. My right leg had gone numb, and my left leg was shaking. My hand was bleeding, and a lump throbbed at the back of my head.

There wasn't a single part of my body that didn't hurt, yet all the comments complained that I was too selfish, too immature, too dramatic, and too petty.

I looked down at my blisters again and started laughing.

For the first time, I thought that maybe the ones who were blind weren't the people in the comments. Maybe it was me.

I lay there on the floor, covered in blood and gumbo, and laughed. At first, it was a soft chuckle. Then, it turned into full-blown laughter that made my shoulders shake. I laughed until tears formed, trickling down my face and mixing with my blood.

Everyone in the room froze.