My Golden Child Twin Is Genuinely A Disaster

My twin sister, Stella, was live on national television, her eyes wet with what looked like genuine, heartbreaking tears. She was facing the camera, accusing our mother of literally chaining her to an oak tree like a dog during our childhood, all while letting me run wild.

The comments section exploded. The entire internet was pouring sympathy onto her, vilifying me as the spoiled, privileged golden child.

I scoffed. "We chained you to the tree, Si, because if we didnt, you were going to try and swim in the septic tank again."

Her neck stiffened in indignation. "Fine, but what about elementary school? Mom spanked me in front of the whole class, then bought you a Snickers bar? That wasn't for my own good, was it?"

I gave her a flat look. "That was because you put plant food in my mashed potatoes, claiming you wanted to help me 'grow taller.' If my teacher hadn't seen the bag, I wouldve aged out of the gene pool at six!"

Suddenly, the furious, pity-filled scrolling in the comments section stopped. The online mob went silent.

[Wait... the sister didn't pull a full 'Medea' on her?]

I was slamming my head against my desk, desperately trying to finish a graphic novel deadline, when my phone buzzed. It was Stella.

"Sis."

That word. She usually calls me Roxanne or Ro. She only uses "Sis" when shes either completely wrecked the car or is about to cash in a major favor.

The tip of my stylus didn't stop moving on the screen. "Spit it out, Stella. I'm on a deadline."

She chuckled nervously. "I need to use one of the I.O.U. cards."

Years ago, after a particularly violent sibling feud, I'd scribbled out three "One Favor Owed" coupons to placate her.

I played dumb. "Didn't you use those up trying to get me to clean your room that one summer?"

"Bull! One left!" Her voice shot up an octave.

"Did it? I don't recall."

"Yes, you do! It says 'Must attend one public event of my choosing.' You have to come on this reality show with me."

"Absolutely not," I said, without even thinking.

There was no way I was going to be a prop in some forced-drama reality show. Id rather face my deadline alone.

Stella squealed. "But I used the I.O.U.! You have to honor it, you human-sized block of ice!"

"Fine. What do you want?"

"Its a mother-daughter bonding retreat. You and Mom, me and you, the whole shebang. Three pairs."

"Im not going," I repeated.

A silence stretched across the line. Then, Stella deployed the nuclear option.

"Mom said if you don't go, you're not allowed to pull all-nighters in the den anymore. Also, those front-row tickets for The Void Hearts? The ones youve been obsessed with for six months? I managed to score two. If you ditch me, I'm giving them to Gary next door."

My stylus clattered onto the desk. The temptation was too much.

Stella and I hauled our luggage into the rental house. The other two pairs of guests were already in the living room, staring at each other in awkward silence.

Stella, the professional host, thrives on this. She dumped her bags and immediately took the lead.

"Hey everyone! Im Stella, and I host a morning talk show."

I trailed in after her, doing my best impression of a person who understands social interaction. "Im Roxanne, Stellas twin, and Im a comic artist."

The comments feed on the live stream went wild.

[Wait, Stella has a twin sister?]

[Genetics are wild. They look identical, but the vibe is completely different.]

[The one in the green sundress is the happy one; the one in the black jacket looks like shes ready for a funeral.]

The other guests introduced themselves.

First, there was Piper, a soft-spoken indie folk singer, with her mother, Victoria.

Then, there was Harper, a massively popular K-pop-style idol, and her mother, Patrice.

When it was Harper's turn, Stella's interviewer instinct kicked in. She leaned forward. "Harper, you were a high-achieving NYU grad working at a major tech firm. What made you walk away from all that stability to enter the chaotic world of pop stardom?"

It was a question everyone was curious about.

Harper glanced at her mother, Patrice, and her voice was dangerously flat. "Being an idol is the only effective way to delay an engagement."

The livestream comments exploded again.

[I worship this woman. She is a genius.]

[So the no-dating clause is actually an escape clause? I see the light!]

[The most effective anti-marriage strategy ever invented.]

Patrice clearly didn't get it. She stared at Harper, utterly baffled. "What on earth does being a celebrity have to do with getting married?"

I took pity on her and gave a quick, basic explanation. "Ma'am, in the idol world, if a star dates, its considered an 'unacceptable breach of contract.' They have to pay massive penalties and often retire."

Patrice whirled on Harper, her eyes blazing. "Is that true?"

Harper nodded, her eyes placid as a stagnant pond. "I told you years ago, I don't want to get married. You just never listened."

Patrice instantly became a furious, wounded thing. "What's so bad about marriage? That nice young man's family owns a factory, they're offering us two hundred and fifty thousand dollars cash, and he bought you a new car! The man is stable and honest; you'd be the lady of the house! What more are you looking for?"

"You're an idiot whos read too many books! I wish I'd never let you go to that pretentious university!"

Harpers hands, resting on her knees, clenched into tight fists until her knuckles were white. The cool, distant composure on her face dissolved, replaced by a devastating despair. She looked like she might shatter.

The comments section filled with pure outrage.

[Is this woman seriously selling her daughter?]

[Harper makes millions. What is $250k to her? This is insane.]

[This isn't pressure to marry; it's a social execution.]

When Harper didn't respond, Patrice's voice grew louder and more choked with tears. "If you don't marry him, do you know what the neighbors say about me? Stop being so selfish!"

"You're quitting this show, and you're coming home to meet him!"

Harper finally snapped.

She shot up, her eyes like chips of ice. "Mom, why can't you accept that some people in this world simply don't need a husband? Or a marriage?"

Patrice looked thunderstruck, her eyes wide. "Are you a monster? You need a doctor!"

The living room fell into a deathly silence. A dozen cameras were focused entirely on Patrice's distorted face.

Her chest heaved. The words spilling out of her mouth were poisonous. "A woman who doesn't marry isn't a woman! When you get old, youll die alone in your apartment, and no one will even know until you start to smell!"

The entire scene felt like a massive emotional chokehold.

[Someone help Harper! I'd have lost it already.]

[How is being asexual or simply single 'being a monster'? This mother is terrifying.]

[She has money. She can afford a retirement home and full-time care. A man isn't the only solution!]

Watching the comments, a familiar ache settled in my chest. It was the tight grip of inherited obligation, the kind of emotional bondage thats universal but feels particularly inescapable when the words are dripping with 'for your own good.' Harper couldn't hate her, and she had no energy left to love her.

As the situation spiraled toward complete catastrophe, the production assistant quickly rushed in the task cards, trying desperately to change the subject.

The first segment: "Open Up Your Heart."

Harper offered a self-deprecating smile. "My hearts issue is pretty public now. Its how to avoid an engagement."

We were right back where we started.

Patrice smacked her daughter on the back, hard. It sounded painful. "I'm doing this for you! I won't die happy if you don't marry!"

Harper opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She just closed her eyes in sheer exhaustion.

My phone vibrated. Stella had texted me: [Sis, I know why they hired me.]

I texted back: [Because you were cheap?]

Stella: [Shut up! Because only I can save this train wreck!]

She had a point. The atmosphere was at absolute zero. If she didn't intervene, the show was over.

Stella flipped her phone over, took a long, exaggerated breath, and let out an audible sigh.

It was loud in the quiet room. Everyone looked at her.

Her eyes were slightly red, her voice raw. "Actually, when we were kids, my sister was definitely Moms favorite."

"She got to run free. Me? Mom literally chained me to a tree in the backyard because she didn't trust me."

She sniffled dramatically. She looked utterly wounded.

The living room fell silent. The guests exchanged shocked, horrified glances.

The comments instantly boiled over.

[OMG? That's abuse!]

[Stella seems so outgoing, but her childhood was that bad?]

[These parents should have their kids taken away!]

[Chained to a tree? That's how you treat a dog!]

Stellas melodramatic confession had instantly redirected the room's hostile energy into pity for her.

I watched her Oscar-worthy performance and couldn't help but roll my eyes. The story was technically true, but her framing was a complete distortion.

I made a disgusted sound. "Youre a performance artist, Si. You left out the context."

"You were borderline feral. You once snuck out and were baptized in a neighbors inflatable pool filled with stagnant rainwater. Mom was afraid youd drown or infect yourself, so she put you on a leash."

Stellas face went blank. "...Huh?"

The comments section was a flurry of question marks.

[???]

[That twist came faster than a hurricane.]

[LOL, so it was a behavioral safety measure.]

[Okay, that makes sense. Security first.]

[But why only Stella? Still feels like favoritism.]

Stella, clearly frustrated, quickly moved to her second big revelation.

"What about the elementary school thing? Mom spanked me in front of the whole class, then bought you a candy bar. That's pure favoritism, Roxanne!"

I gave her a withering look, like I was addressing an idiot child. "That was because you resented me for being shorter, so you secretly mixed liquid plant food into my mashed potatoes. If my teacher hadn't caught you, I almost bought the farm at six."

Stella was speechless.

Now, even the pitying viewers were silent.

[I take back every ounce of sympathy.]

[Stella was a menace as a child, holy cow.]

[Plant food in food? What kind of twisted logic is that?]

[The spanking was justified. Maybe even too lenient.]

The other guests burst out laughing.

The tense, stifling atmosphere was instantly washed away by the sheer absurdity of our childhood antics.

I saw the flush creep up Stellas neck, and I couldn't help but let a slight smile touch my lips.

Stella glared at me, completely unhinged. "Roxanne! You heartless monster! I dare you to bring up the stupid things you did as a kid!"