[4]

Dinner that evening unfolded exactly as Tara had expected Kara was there too.

Normally, Tara would have welcomed her sister’s presence with genuine warmth. Whenever their parents joined them, the house would feel livelier filled with conversation and laughter. Though often, those conversations revolved around one person.

Kara this. Kara that. Kara, the pride of the family.

And Tara?

Just an afterthought.

But back then, it had never hurt. She had accepted it all with sincerity, loved them without question, without condition.

Until today.

The day everything was revealed—in the cruelest way possible.

“I made your favorite beef soup, Adrian. Would you like to try it first?” Kara’s voice was soft, attentive.

She stood by the stove, a spoon in her hand, waiting—her smile far too warm for someone who was supposed to be nothing more than a sister-in-law.

Adrian, who had been watching her all along, smiled without hesitation. “Of course.”

He walked over, leaning in slightly as he accepted the spoonful she offered. No awkwardness. No distance.

“This is really good, Kara. You have a talent for this,” he praised sincerely. Then his gaze shifted toward Tara. “You should learn a thing or two from your sister.”

Tara didn’t respond immediately.

She simply sat at the dining table, leaning back with quiet composure, observing everything. A cup of green tea rested in her hand, the warmth grounding her as she took it all in—the lingering glances, the smiles that carried meaning, the closeness that went far beyond what it should have been.

Damn it.

Why was it all so obvious now?

A moment later, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway.

“Daddy!”

Liora appeared, her face bright, her hair slightly tousled as she ran toward them. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the table—only to shift immediately toward Kara.

“Mommy Kara, what did you make for Daddy tonight?” she asked eagerly.

Tara should have noticed it sooner—how easily Liora called Kara “Mommy,” and how Kara never once corrected her.

Kara smiled gently. “Right here, sweetheart. Your daddy’s favorite soup, of course.”

Liora climbed into her seat quickly, but before reaching for anything, she glanced at Tara.

“What did Mommy Tara make?”

The question was simple—yet it shifted the atmosphere in the room in an instant.

Tara looked at her briefly. “Mommy didn’t cook today,” she replied calmly.

Liora paused. “Why not?”

“I didn’t have time.”

Liora frowned, then nudged the bowl in front of her slightly, the one Kara had prepared, specially served for her as well.

“Just eat the soup, Liora,” Tara said quietly.

“I don’t want this. I want Mommy Tara’s omelet,” Liora said sharply. “Now!”

Normally, Tara would have smiled, gently coaxing her, explaining things with patience and warmth.

But not this time. She simply picked up her own spoon. “Then don’t eat it.”

Both Kara and Adrian turned to look at her. The tone was too flat—too indifferent. There was no attempt to soothe, no effort to soften Liora’s mood.

Kara let out a small laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Liora, don’t be like that. Mommy Kara worked hard to make this. Just try it—it’s good.”

“But I want Mommy Tara’s omelet,” Liora whined.

“Liora,” Adrian called, his voice firm.

But before he could continue, Tara cut her tone sharper this time. “Eat what’s in front of you, Liora. Besides, it’s made by Mommy Kara—the one you love, right?”

Liora huffed in frustration, then began stirring her soup reluctantly.

Silence followed for a few moments, and dinner resumed—at least on the surface.

Adrian cleared his throat before speaking again. “There’s something I want to discuss.”

Tara said nothing. Her spoon moved slowly through her bowl, her gaze lowered, though from the corner of her eye she watched the two people across from her—Kara and her husband.

“The Neo Group project is becoming more demanding. It needs full attention,” Adrian continued. His eyes shifted to Kara. “I need Kara to work closely with me—directly. It’ll make coordination and meetings with key clients much easier. So for the time being… Kara will be staying here.”

Tara’s spoon paused for a brief second—then continued as if nothing had happened. No reaction. No objection.

And somehow, that response unsettled Kara. “Adrian… I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“I want Mommy Kara to stay here!” Liora suddenly cut in.

Everyone turned to her.

“I want Mommy Kara here! I don’t want her to leave!”

“Liora, sweetheart—” Kara tried to calm her, but Liora was already standing on her chair.

“I don’t want Mommy Kara to go, Daddy!” she shouted, louder this time. Her hand swept across the bowl in front of her—

Soup spilled, warm broth splashing across the table, the spoon clattering loudly to the floor.

“Liora!” Adrian snapped.

But the crying and shouting didn’t stop.

And at that moment, Tara stood up.

“Liora.”

Her voice wasn’t loud—but it was enough to stop everything. Liora froze. Her breathing was still uneven; her cheeks were wet with tears.

“Sit,” Tara said firmly.

There was no sharpness in her tone, no raised voice—yet something had changed. Slowly, Liora lowered herself back into her seat. Tara stepped closer, calm and measured, each step deliberates. She stopped right in front of the child, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“Who taught you to behave like this?”

No one spoke.

“You throw food, shout at the table, and show no respect to the person who cooked for you.”

Liora looked up at her, fear flickering in her eyes.

“You can’t answer?”

“N-no one, Mommy Tara…”

Tara gave a small nod. “Hold out your hand.”

Liora didn’t dare refuse. She placed her small hand on the edge of the table. Then, in one swift motion, Tara struck her palm with the chopsticks lying on the table.

Once.

Twice.

A few times—not hard, but enough to make the girl flinch. Liora cried out instantly, startled and stung by the pain. But Tara didn’t stop right away.

“I never taught you that,” Tara continued, her voice still low. “So don’t do it again.”

Liora’s sobs grew louder. What Tara was doing left both Kara and Adrian stunned—but they couldn’t let it continue. Kara quickly stood and rushed over, pulling Liora into her arms.

“That’s enough, that’s enough,” she said anxiously. “Don’t go on, Tara. I’m sure she’s learned her lesson.”

“Mommy Kara!” Liora wailed, clinging to her. “It hurts! My hand hurts! Mommy Tara is mean!”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay…”

Kara looked at Tara, shock plain on her face. Without another word, she lifted Liora into her arms and carried her away. The sound of the child’s crying lingered as they disappeared upstairs.

The room fell silent once more.

Adrian was still staring at Tara, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to go that far, Tara,” he said at last.

Tara didn’t respond immediately. She stood there for a few seconds, then her shoulders slowly slumped.

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I couldn’t raise her properly.” Her voice trembled. “I was too harsh. I should’ve been more patient…”

She lowered her head. “I… failed as a mother.”

Her hands trembled as she wiped away her tears.

“Tara,” Adrian called. But she didn’t respond. Instead, she spoke again, her voice fragile, breaking at the edges.

“I failed as her mother. I really did. If Liora had been with her real mother… I’m sure she wouldn’t have turned out like this.”

“No—no, why would you think that?” Adrian stepped closer, trying to comfort her.

But the moment he did, Tara recoiled.

“Don’t come any closer, Adrian.”

Her voice was firmer than before. And the look in her eyes made it clear she didn’t want him anywhere near her.

It was strange. Because usually, Tara was the one who tried to stay close to him—while Adrian was the one who kept his distance.

But tonight… everything felt different.

“I’m going to my room.”

She turned and walked away without another glance. As she climbed the stairs, the tears on her face disappeared almost as quickly as they had fallen.

The guilt. Regret. The image of a woman who had just punished a small child too harshly, gone.

In its place, a faint smile curved on her lips. It didn’t last long, but it was enough. Enough to reveal one undeniable truth—Tara was no longer standing where she used to be.

If all this time she had been playing along with their game…

Then from now on—she would be the one writing the rules.

If you can lie so easily… then I’ll meet you on the same ground.

Just wait, Adrian.

You’ll regret this.

And you too… my dear sister.

Be ready.

Because I won’t stay silent anymore.