No Contact, Now Regret
By the fifth year since the return of the real heir, Danny, to the family, I had gotten used to the plain oatmeal on the table.
The second I asked for a bigger portion or more protein, Danny would express his envy toward me, his eyes downcast.
“Rhys sure enjoys such a hearty meal, unlike me. Growing up in an orphanage, I was hungry all the time. I wince at the sight of meat. I don’t deserve to eat.”
My parents shed tears of heartache while accusing me of rubbing it in Danny’s face.
Later, whenever I dressed up to go out, Danny would let out a wry smile.
“Rhys is so put together. That’s so not me. I grew up in the countryside, feeding livestock. Even all the designer clothes in the w