The Ugly Daughter Was The Only Real One

My parents were textbook examples of playing favorites.
On my birthday, our house was empty. Just me and the silence.
Meanwhile, Scarlettmy sisterposted a nine-grid photo of her opulent cake on Instagram, my parents beaming around her like she was the sun.
I called the house, the sound of laughter echoing on the other end, but I still gathered the nerve to ask, my voice small and cautious:
Why why didnt I even get a Happy Birthday?
A beat of silence, then Victorias laugh, light and easy, floated through the line.
Well, Scarlett is beautiful, isnt she? Shes a statement when we take her out. You? Small eyes, no real features. Honestly, we only kept you out of pity. We should have dropped you off at the fire station years ago.
Then Scarlett, her voice a soft, poisonous whisper, took the phone.
Seriously, Lena, you know youre adopted, right? Did you actually believe you were ours?
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I stood frozen for a very long time.
After that, I went quiet. Not literally mute, but the words just stopped coming.
But the desperate need for my biological parents love never died. So, I secretly posted a search for my birth family online.
Scarlett saw it. She screenshotted the post and immediately shared it to the schools anonymous bulletin board with the caption: Fake princess looking for her real parents. Which family misplaced this ugly kid?
I cried for hours.
Late that night, I walked past my parents slightly ajar bedroom door.
I heard Scarletts laughter, sharp and bright.
Its hilarious. She actually bought it! We should hire someone to pretend to be her real parents. I cant wait to see her beg us to keep her
I heard the clink of glass. My father, Richard, had taken a sip of something. Have fun with it, Scar.
My mother, Victoria, chimed in. Just dont go too far, dear.
The fingers I had clamped around the doorknob slowly went slack.
Scarlett moved fast.
The very next day during a break, she called me out in front of the entire class, a mocking smile fixed on her face. Your birth mother is here.
The woman was huddled against the wall, her fingers anxiously twisting the hem of a washed-out shirt. She stammered a greeting. M-Miss, hello
Dont call her Miss, you should call her sweet daughter, Scarlett teased, carefully watching my reaction.
I didn't say anything, but the other students swarmed us, whooping and shouting, camera lenses flashing.
Oh my God, Lena, isnt that Maria, your familys housekeeper?
The real vs. fake daughter drama is happening in real life!
Quick, get a video!
Dozens of scornful eyes landed on me, as if I were truly the wicked usurper from a novel, some interloper who had stolen their parents' love and behaved abominably.
I didn't offer an explanation. I just looked at Maria. Do we need to do a DNA test?
Maria panicked, her lips trembling. She could only look to Scarlett.
Why bother with a DNA test? Scarlett grabbed my shoulder and turned me toward the window glass. Look at yourselves! Those small eyes, the flat noseyoure practically stamped from the same mold
Ever since Id been brought back from the countryside, Scarlett had relentlessly picked apart my flaws.
She called me ugly, clumsy, and said I couldn't possibly be their biological child.
I was small then; all I could do was cry.
But I had secretly compared myself to them.
When I was six, Scarlett smeared my face with lipstick, took a photo, and called me a monster.
My father was in hysterics on the sofa.
I cried and begged my mother to side with me, but she simply said, Your sister is so beautiful, shes allowed to be spoiled.
I couldnt think of a single thing to say back. I just stared in the mirror, trying desperately to open my eyes wider.
I remember thinking: if my eyes were as big as Scarletts, maybe I would finally be pretty enough, finally be loved by my parents.
When I was ten, my sister ripped up my perfect test paper.
I tried to piece it back together, weeping, and my mother walked past, saying, Your sister is beautiful, just let her win this one.
For my twelfth birthday, I pretended to run away, imagining my parents would panic and come looking for me when they realized I hadn't come home.
But no one came, all the way until late evening.
Cold and starving, I slunk back home.
When I arrived, they were recording Scarletts ballet practice.
Did you run wild for long? Glad you finally remembered to come back, my father said, not even looking up.
I instinctively defended myself. I wasnt running wild
Scarlett cut me off with a sweet smile. Oh, come on, sis. I personally saw you and some friends heading into the arcade.
I knew she was lying, but I had no proof. I just stood there, trembling, denying it.
Enough. Is your sister going to lie about you? my father asked impatiently.
My stomach rumbled, loud enough for them to hear. Maria wrung her hands. Im so sorry, Miss Lena, but the leftover dinner was fed to the dog
I was desperately hungry. I asked quietly, Could I just have a bowl of instant noodles?
Absolutely not, my father said, his voice cold and hard. Scarlett is delicate, so she gets a late-night snack. Why do you think you deserve the same?
But Im starving I tried to plead.
My mother cut me off. Whose fault is it you ran off and lost track of time? Now go to your room.
In the middle of the night, Scarlett slipped into my room and deliberately chewed a handful of potato chips, the crunch-crunch-crunch loud and maddening.
My stomach betrayed me again, rumbling.
Want some? She dangled a chip in front of me.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
Then bark. Bark like a dog. If you sound convincing, Ill give you one.
The pain in my stomach was agonizing. I closed my eyes and let out a humiliated whimper: Woof.
Louder. I didnt hear you.
WOOF!
She smiled brilliantly and held a chip out toward me.
Just as I reached for it, she let it drop to the floor.
Her designer slipper landed perfectly, squarely on the chip.
Oops, my bad. But hey, it fell on the ground. You can still eat it.
She paused, tilting her head.
After all, little puppies love things that fall on the floor, dont they?
I felt heat rush through my entire body.
Finding a surge of courage from some unknown place, I lunged and snatched the bag of chips from her hand.
I devoured the chips like a starving animal, stuffing them into my mouth.
She just watched me, smiling sweetly, letting me have them. Then the screaming started immediately.
Mom! Dad! Lena stole my food! Waaahhh!
She was the picture of innocent distress.
The result was familiar: my mother called me a thief, and my fathers open hand slammed across my face, making my ears ring.
Even then, I forced myself to chew and swallow every chip in my mouth.
I couldnt bear the feeling of being punished and left to starve through another sleepless night.
The outcome was, as always, being locked in the dark utility closet and having my breakfast withheld.
The next day during gym class, the sun was a blinding white glare.
I collapsed. The back of my head hit the concrete with a dull, sickening thud.
The pain was immediate, my head was instantly cracked and bleeding.
Meanwhile, Maria was still stammering through her pre-prepared lines.
W-when you were born, the original plan was to swap you with Miss Scarlett, but we got caught, but the Master and Madam were kind, so they kept you on as the second daughter
Maria trailed off mid-sentence, forgetting the rest of the script, her face turning crimson.
I looked at her and quietly said, Mom.
I took Marias arm and walked home with her, initiating the departure.
My mother frowned slightly when she saw us, but quickly put on a bright smile. Well, look at that, Lena found her biological mother!
I nodded calmly.
My father played along. In that case, you should pack up and move back in with your real parents, shouldnt you?
Before I could speak, Scarlett rushed to pack my things.
She shoved my suitcase down the stairs and said, Dont thank me.
Thats all my stuff?
Uh-huh. All your clothes and everything else were bought with our money. You thought you could take them?
I opened the suitcase. Seeing my main belongings were there, I closed it.
I have one more request.
Scarlett immediately shouted, What is it? If you want money, we wont give you any.
I want my legal identity separated from yours.
My mother blinked, looked at my father, and, seeing his nod, went to get the family records.
And just like that, my name was legally severed from theirs.
Looking at my lonely page in the official document, my first reaction was relief.

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