I'm No Beggar for Love

"Mom, Dad, it's so dark. My eyes hurt so badly. I'm so scared," Grace sobbed.

My parents were blinded by sympathy. They didn't stop to wonder how Grace could have found their bedroom so easily in such an unfamiliar environment and during a sudden eye flare-up.

They just held Grace tenderly, their own anxieties mirrored in their tearful eyes. "Don't be afraid, Grace. We're right here."

Grace trembled as she nestled into Mom's embrace, appearing thoroughly frightened.

"Mom, Dad, can I really stay in this family? Earlier, Wendy..." Grace whimpered.

My heart sank when I overheard this. Dad burst into my room and yanked me out of bed while I was still pretending to sleep the next moment later.

"What did you say to Grace? How can you be so inconsiderate? Grace has been sickly since childhood and has such a tragic past. Can't you just give way to her a little?"

"Don't be like that. Wendy's still young. She'll understand with some guidance!" Mom verbally restrained Dad but continued holding Grace tightly, showing no intention of coming to protect me.

Eventually, they took Grace back to their bedroom and left me standing outside in my thin nightgown.

Mom used to check on me every night, tucking me in before leaving. They seemed to have forgotten that I was only a seven-year-old child who also feared the dark and the cold, and at an age when I needed parental love the most.

Grace often did this in my previous life. She'd first pretend her eye condition was flaring up, then take advantage of my saintly parents' compassionate nature to fabricate lies that tarnished my reputation.

I gradually became aware of the threat even as a young child. I had transformed in my parents' eyes from a sweet, adorable daughter into a "bad girl" since her arrival.

So I began secretly competing with Grace, comparing myself to her in everything. Whatever Grace had, I had to have it too.

Grace excelled at putting on an act in front of others—appearing gentle, timid, and always yielding—making my parents feel they owed her even more.

I competed with Grace my entire life, but I could never win against her. Even Jake, who once adored me the most, fell under Grace's spell.

Everyone in the art circle knew that the Lane family had a pitifully talented adopted daughter named Grace and a jealous, bullheaded biological daughter named Wendy.

I decided to stop competing with Grace in this new life. I would live the life I truly wanted.

Early the next morning, Grace's and my parents' cheerful voices drifted from the dining room. I quietly walked downstairs to find Grace sitting in my seat, using my favorite tableware.

The previously harmonious atmosphere suddenly broke upon seeing me. It was as if I were the intruder in their family.

Mom's face flashed with embarrassment. "Wendy, you're up early today. Grace doesn't have her own tableware yet, so she's using yours. Would you mind using Jake's set?"

"No thanks. I don't like using things that belong to others."

Everyone knew I was criticizing Grace when they heard my words. Dad, still angry about my "bullying" of Grace yesterday, transformed from his usually kind demeanor to looking extremely displeased.

I glanced at the milk, sandwiches, bacon, and eggs on the table. Grace liked all of these things. Meanwhile, I was lactose intolerant and usually had oatmeal for breakfast.