Love Only in My Ashes

Lina trembled as she raised her phone. "Maybe it's better Jane died! At least she doesn't have to suffer your injustices anymore! With the way you people are, no wonder she didn't even want to leave her body to you!"

Father stared at the phone screen, his face instantly turning deathly pale.

His lips trembled for a few moments before he managed a dry, brittle sentence: "What does Jane's death have to do with Jasmine? Why must you cause a scene at her Marking Ceremony? Don't you know Jasmine has depression? Even dead, Jane won't let me have peace, really..."

Thud.

Colin's bouquet fell to the floor, but he didn't pick it up.

His gaze was glued to Lina's phone screen. The hand gripping the table was knuckle-white, veins bulging, just barely steadying his swaying body.

"Jane's funeral..." Colin took a deep, shuddering breath, "...can be held after the ceremony. We can't let her death affect Jasmine's emotions. Jasmine shouldn't bear responsibility for this."

I floated between them and suddenly laughed out loud.

So my life wasn't even worth Jasmine's ceremony.

"The ceremony? The ceremony?!" Lina's voice rose sharply. "Fuck your Marking Ceremony!"

She violently overturned the nearest table. Glasses shattered on the floor with a piercing crash. Guests gasped and scrambled back; chaos erupted instantly.

"You like playing favorites?" Lina stormed onto the stage, connecting her phone to the projection equipment. "I'm demanding justice for Jane today!"

On the large screen, Chris was preparing the memory extraction experiment. The image flashed back, showing seven-year-old Jasmine. She held a pair of scissors in one hand, my mother's cloth bunny rabbit in the other.

"Give it back!" Five-year-old me jumped, trying to reach it. "That's what Mom left for me!"

My mother was the Alpha's sister, but she died on the battlefield.

Jasmine waved her trophy triumphantly. "No! Who told you to fight with me for Daddy?"

Snip. The scissors cut off the bunny's ear.

"He's my daddy!" I cried, charging headfirst into Jasmine. As she fell, the scissors sliced across her palm.

My stepmother's shriek pierced the air immediately: "If Jane doesn't want us here, we'll leave right now!"

Father didn't even ask what happened.

Smack! A slap stunned me.

"Daring to hurt someone at such a young age? Go to the storage room and reflect!" Father grabbed my collar and threw me into the pitch-black closet.

I cried until my voice was hoarse in the dark. No one came.

Finally, Father only said: "Apologize to your sister."

That night, the family of they three went to the amusement park. As punishment, I was left alone at home.

The scene switched to when I was eight. In front of the Pack school's achievement board, I pointed excitedly at the top name: "Dad, look! I'm second in physical combat, first in marksmanship!"

Jasmine stood beside me, clutching a failing report card. Suddenly, she burst into loud sobs.

"Why aren't you first in combat?" Father snatched my report card. "So careless and still bragging?"

The paper shredded in his hands.

But then he turned and hugged Jasmine. "Grades don't matter. My daughter just needs to be happy. I'll take you to buy a new dress."

I crouched on the floor, picking up the pieces of paper. When Lina came over, I was clumsily trying to tape the report card back together.

"Next time, do worse on purpose," Lina advised me. "Then your dad won't scold you."

I believed her. On the next test, I deliberately missed the target. But what awaited me wasn't comfort; it was the sting of a leather belt on my skin.

"From first place to dead last? What were you doing all day at school?"

Laughter drifted from the next room: "Jasmine improved from last time, so great! Daddy bought you a new doll."

That night, curled under the blankets, I asked Lina: "Do you think... maybe Jasmine is actually Dad's real daughter?"

At thirteen, I finally couldn't take it anymore. Lina gave me an idea: "Next time, when she's not paying attention, deliberately provoke her in front of your father. Let him see her true colors!"

I waited for the perfect moment. Finally, I found one: Jasmine thought Father wasn't home. She shoved me hard to the ground and strutted off.

I ran upstairs excitedly to tell Father, whose face was grim: "Now you know her true colors!"