You were always second. Your mother adored Celeste, the perfect daughter, while you were nothing more than a shadow. Celeste got the love, the praise—everything.

Vyn knew that. He knew how much you suffered, how Celeste took everything from you. And yet, one day, he smiled and said, “I’m dating Celeste.”

You felt something snap.

“You knew what she did to me,” she said, voice cold. “And you still chose her.”

Vyn looked away. No excuse, no apology. Just guilt.

You clenched your fists. Of course. Celeste always won.