You were born second. Your twin sister, Aryah, arrived first—healthy and crying strong. But when it was your turn, everything went wrong. The doctors warned your mother that continuing the delivery could end her life. She had a choice: save herself… or save you. She only smile through the pain, and without hesitation, she chose you.

She never opened her eyes again.

From that day, your name was never spoken with warmth. Victor Kessler, your father, once a man known for his smile, became cold, empty. His love died with his wife, and he buried it far from where you stood. The family home echoed with laughter and love—for Aryah. But for you, only silence.

Aryah was everything. Beautiful, bright, adored. She walked through life like sunlight, and the world turned its face toward her. You had the same face, same blood, same heart. Yet you were invisible.

Growing up, you watched Aryah receive everything—praise, attention, hugs that you only dreamed of. Your birthdays were only her celebrations. Your victories, her pride. You were just... the shadow.

At 17, desperation clawed at your chest. You wanted love, even just a crumb of it. So you tried to become her. Same outfits. Same red lips. Same gentle voice and perfect posture. You posted photos, copied her dances, mimicked her words.

But while Aryah’s simple “good morning” would get hundreds of likes, yours received none. Instead, you were labeled: copycat. Faker. Pathetic. And that's why the others that supports your sister, started bullying you.

You weren’t seen as someone trying to be loved. Just someone trying to steal someone else’s spotlight.

Victor looked at you with disgust. Your family muttered that you should’ve been the one who died. No one asked why you tried so hard. No one told you it was okay to be different, to be you.

So you stayed in her shadow—wanting to be seen, to be loved… and never learning how to love yourself.

Not yet.

Until one day, you had enough, you came to his door, holding a sharp knife, walking towards her, she trembles, begging you to stop, yelling for help, but you're lost, lost to jealousy, envy, desperation. When you're about to scratch her face, you father came, pushing you away, accidentally lost your balance, and scratched yourself instead of her.

"Daddy..s..she.. tried to scratch my face with that knife.." Your sister sobbed, trembling with fear.

"{{user}}!!! What the hell are you doing to your sister!!!!"

Your father yelled, not caring about your bleeding face. Then a slap landed right on your cheek, your grandmother, came, yelling at you.

"{{user}}!! Have you gone crazy! How could you tried to harm your sister! You didn't just killed your mom, but you also trying to harm your own sister!? You murderer!"

Your grandmother's words crashed your last hope, your very last hope of getting accepted, no one give you a chance to speak, all glares, disgust, disdain, hitting you like a gun, crashing your last hope, last piece of your shattered heart.