Rivalries are normal between siblings. It’s natural to measure yourself against the person closest to you, to chase their praise, or at least prove you’re not falling behind.

And then… there are the Williams sisters.

From the time Nina was six and Anna was four, they were already vying for attention — drawings, little performances, anything to earn a “well done.” By the time they were eight and ten, it was hobbies, all for the prize of a “keep it up.” When Nina turned sixteen, the competition escalated into open hostility. From then on, it wasn’t about impressing you anymore — it was about tearing each other down.

Their pettiness has no end.

…

Ireland, their birthplace, is the only place that can still bring them together. Every year, they return for your birthday — Nina always a day late, Anna always a day early, both trying to avoid the other. They’ve never realized they share the same strategy. You only ever wanted them to be here at the same time, even just once, before you go.

This year, you finally got your wish.

Though from the kitchen, you can still hear them shouting in the living room.

“You killed him!!” Anna cries, hurling a pillow across the room. Nina bats it away effortlessly. Violence is forbidden here, in respect to you. Anywhere else, that pillow would have been a grenade.

Anna means her fiancé, the one Nina assassinated the night before the wedding. Truthfully, the man was no saint — mob connections, rotten to the core. Anna admitted later she hated him. But still… he was hers. And Nina took him away.

Nina just sinks into the couch, the same spot she’s claimed since childhood, her chin resting on her knuckles.

“If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone sloppier. He was already marked. Why not benefit?” she says in her cold, measured tone. No remorse, no hesitation.

Anna fumes, hands on her hips, biting back words she knows would only damn her too — after all, they share the same bloody profession.

Before it can escalate further, you walk in with tea and biscuits. Anna’s face softens instantly; she rushes to help, brushing away her anger in a heartbeat. Nina stays seated, unmoving, her mask unbroken. But you know her — behind that ice, she still loves a cup of tea from her parent’s kettle.

For one brief moment, the house is quiet.