A Life in Bright Colors

On my way to a tutoring session, I ran into my brother’s fiancée.
She was on the arm of a strange man, her smile as bright as a blooming flower. A wicked little thrill went through me as I snapped a picture and immediately sent it to my brother, Liam.
“Congrats. Looks like she’s upgrading.”
Five minutes later, a few terse words appeared on my screen.
“That’s her brother.”
“Dumbass.”

1
Staring at the word ‘dumbass’ on the screen, a familiar ache bloomed in my chest.
I should have known better. Liam never spared my feelings, especially not when I made a fool of myself like this.
Ever since a high fever I had as a kid, my processing speed has been... slow. The doctors said my intelligence was unaffected, but it was like my brain was running on a delay.
A sentence someone else understood in a second, I’d have to turn over and over in my mind. In class, by the time an answer finally surfaced from the depths of my thoughts, the teacher had already moved on.
After that, Liam barely spoke to me. He found me “clumsy,” “a step behind,” and his attitude was contagious. Soon, my parents started to manage me less and less.
They never took me to family gatherings or social events, as if I were a secret to be kept locked away.
I stared at the word on my phone, my eyes slowly turning red.
Just then, a gentle hand tapped my shoulder.
I whipped around to see Keith standing behind me, holding a freshly bought ice cream cone. His smile was as warm as the afternoon sun.
"Luna? What are you doing standing here all by yourself? You look a million miles away."
He pressed the cone into my hand, his voice soft enough to melt the hurt inside me. "Did something happen?"
Keith and I grew up together. He was a great student with a kind heart, always surrounded by friends. But with me, he had a special kind of patience. No matter how long it took me to find my words, he would always wait.
I think I’ve been in love with him for a very long time.
It just took me until last year to finally realize it. That tight, heavy feeling in my chest whenever I saw him talking to someone else? That was love.
My fingers crumpled the cone’s paper wrapper as I quietly told him what had happened. As the story tumbled out, so did my tears.
"Keith... does my brother really look down on me that much?"
Keith reached out and gently wiped a tear from my cheek. "Don't overthink it," he soothed. "Liam's bark is worse than his bite. He doesn't mean to be cruel."
He paused, then offered a small smile. "Come on, let's take a walk by the river. The fresh air will do you good."
I nodded, following him. The ice cream was starting to melt, dripping cool against the back of my hand.
As we walked, Keith filled the silence with lighthearted stories from his college classes, telling me how he almost flubbed a question from a professor and how the corner store near campus had a new, amazing kind of loaded fries. He was trying so hard to be funny, and he kept slowing his pace to make sure I could keep up.
Listening to him, the knot of misery in my stomach began to loosen. I snuck a glance at him. The sun caught the sharp line of his jaw, and when he smiled, his eyes curved into crescents. He was beautiful.
I thought to myself that if I could just keep walking with him like this forever, everything might be okay.
But then, a familiar, sugary voice called out from behind us. "Keith!"
We both turned. Emma was hurrying toward us, her ponytail bouncing with every step.
Emma was the girl my parents had taken in a year after my fever. She was smart, charming, and quickly won over my parents and Liam. Even Keith spent a lot of time with her.
The fragile bubble of peace around me popped. My mood sank again.
Emma wedged herself between us, her arrival announced by a cloud of gardenia perfume that instantly overpowered Keith’s clean, subtle scent of soap.
I instinctively shuffled to the side, my fingers twisting the hem of my shirt.
Keith’s smile for her was just as gentle. "Emma. I saw Luna was having a rough day, so I asked you to come. You two are the same age, you grew up together. I thought maybe you could cheer her up."
I stared at the ground, digging my nails into the denim of my jeans. A bitter taste filled my mouth.
Emma and I were never close. As the sponsored student my parents eventually fostered, her intelligence and beauty made her the "perfect child" they always talked about. They praised her for being sharp and sensible, which only made me, the slow one, seem even more like a burden.
When there were snacks, they’d ask what Emma wanted. When they bought new clothes, they’d take Emma to the mall to pick out whatever she liked, never once asking me my favorite color. Even Liam was more patient with her, sometimes spending hours helping her with homework while I sat in the same room, invisible.
I knew it was petty to feel this way, but seeing the affection they showered on her compared to the neglect I received felt like a physical weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Emma turned to me, her smile cloyingly sweet. "Luna, what's wrong? You looked like you were about to cry. Did something bad happen?"
I met her wide, innocent eyes, but the words wouldn't come. I couldn't tell her I was upset because my own brother had called me a ‘dumbass.’ That would only make her see me as even more pathetic.
I stammered for a moment before finally mumbling, "It's... it's nothing. I just had a fight with my brother."
Emma waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, that's just Liam," she said casually. "You know how he is. Don't take it to heart. He acts tough, but deep down, he really cares about you."
Hearing the familiar way she spoke about him made my stomach clench. I was his real sister, yet he’d never shown me an ounce of kindness. Emma, on the other hand, received his patience so effortlessly.
I pressed my lips together and said nothing more. An awkward silence fell over us.
Keith, ever the peacemaker, jumped in. "Hey Emma, have you eaten yet? It's getting late. Why don't we grab a bite? I know a great BBQ joint just around the corner."
Emma’s eyes lit up. "Yes! I've been craving BBQ forever!"
I hesitated. I needed to get home and start my homework. As a senior, the workload was already crushing, and it took me twice as long as anyone else to finish. If I stayed out, I’d be up all night.
But then I thought about how busy Keith was with college. We barely saw each other anymore. I couldn't bear to pass up this rare chance to be with him.
I swallowed the words I was about to say and quietly followed them to the restaurant.
The BBQ joint was a small, bustling place on the side of the street. We found a booth by the window, and Keith took the menu, naturally asking Emma and me what we wanted.
The food came quickly, filling the air with the rich, smoky scent of grilling meat. Keith picked up the tongs and started cooking a few slices of pork belly for me, my favorite.
Across the table, Emma was a whirlwind of motion, chattering about her life at school—the award her club had just won, a funny story about a classmate. She was a big deal at school, always the center of attention, and her face glowed with pride as she spoke.
I just sat there, listening silently, unable to find a single opening to join the conversation.
In a burst of excitement, Emma threw her hands up to emphasize a point. Her arm knocked against the water glass beside her.
With a sharp crack, the glass toppled, hitting the edge of the hot grill. The metal plate lost its balance and tipped, sending a cascade of sizzling meat and scalding grease straight toward me.
A searing pain shot up my arm, sharp and dizzying, like a thousand tiny needles. A scream tore from my throat, and tears instantly flooded my eyes. The hot grease sizzled on my skin, a vicious heat that felt like it was boring straight through to the bone.
Keith jumped, the tongs clattering from his hand. He shot up from his seat and raced to the counter, returning a moment later with a cup of ice water. He gently took my wrist, his voice laced with panic as he poured the cold water over the burn.
"Luna, are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?"
Emma, who had initially flinched back in shock, suddenly let out a small laugh. The sound was sharp, dripping with undisguised mockery.
"Wow, Luna," she said, a smirk playing on her lips. "For someone who's usually so slow, you dodged that pretty fast. Who knows? Maybe a few more shocks like that will finally fix the 'side effects' from your childhood fever."
Side effects. The words struck me like a physical blow.
My head snapped up, my eyes wide with disbelief. The burn, the shock—it all fueled a furious red haze. The fact that my fever had left me with a slower processing speed was a secret I never, ever talked about. I barely told anyone. How could she possibly know?
Sensing my stare, Emma stuck out her tongue in a parody of innocence. "Oops. Did I say too much?"
I clenched my good hand into a fist, my nails digging into my palm. I fought to keep my voice from shaking. "How… how did you know about my fever?"
Her eyes flickered toward Keith for a fraction of a second before settling back on me. "Oh, you know," she said with a lazy drawl. "Last month, when I went with Keith and your brother to that new resort your family opened? They brought it up."
She paused, adding a hollow apology. "Sorry, Luna. I just assumed it wasn't a big deal. I didn't realize you were so sensitive about it. I won't mention it again."
My vision swam with angry tears. So that was it. My deepest, most painful secret had been served up as casual conversation fodder between my brother and the boy I loved.
Keith saw the look on my face and became flustered. He patted my shoulder, trying to placate me. "Luna, don't be upset. Liam and I were just talking, it didn't mean anything. Emma probably didn't think it was a big deal either. She wasn't trying to make fun of you. Don't take it personally."
"Just talking?" I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. "Keith, that's my life! It's the one thing I never wanted anyone to know! How could you just… just tell someone like that?"
A wave of humiliation and fury washed over me, and the past came rushing back in a vivid, painful flood. I wasn't always like this. I used to be bright, a good student. My parents used to be proud to show me off. That fever changed everything.
I had assumed that no matter how much Liam disliked me, he would never use that against me. After all, what happened that day… it was his fault.
The memory of the fever was a nightmare I kept buried deep inside, but now it clawed its way to the surface.
It was a Saturday. Liam was going to the river with his friends and didn't want me tagging along. He pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket and pressed them into my hand. "Luna, go to the corner store and get me a soda. An ice-cold one. When you get back, I'll let you play with us."
I was only eight. The promise of being included was all I needed. I clutched the money and ran.
But when I returned with the cold bottle, the riverbank was empty. Liam was gone.
I searched along the water's edge until two strange men blocked my path. They said they knew where my brother was. I took a few steps with them before a cold dread washed over me. I turned to run, but they grabbed me.
I fought with all my might, twisting and kicking until I lost my footing and tumbled into the river.
The July water looked calm, but its chill was shocking, cutting straight to my bones. I swallowed mouthfuls of murky water, flailing desperately until my hands closed around a drifting branch. I managed to pull myself to the bank, shivering and gasping. The men, spooked by my fall, had already vanished.
Soaked and freezing, I stumbled home. It was dark by the time I walked through the door. My parents were frantic. As they rushed toward me, demanding to know where I'd been, Liam hid behind them and muttered, "I don't know. She said she wanted to go play by herself. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen."
I opened my mouth to tell them the truth, but Liam shot me a look so full of venom and warning that the words died in my throat.
That night, the fever hit. I burned for two weeks straight. The doctors told my parents to prepare for the worst. I survived, but a part of me didn't. When the fever finally broke, I was slow. I was different. I was broken.
For all these years, I never blamed Liam. He was just a kid, I told myself. He was scared.
But now I knew the truth. He didn't just feel no guilt; he had turned my deepest wound into a punchline for his friends. And Keith… Keith was the person I trusted most in the world. I thought he, of all people, would understand how much that secret hurt me, how much I needed it kept safe. But he had treated it just as carelessly as my brother.
I looked at Keith’s desperate face, then at Emma’s smug one. The weight of it all, the years of hurt and betrayal, crashed down on me, and I couldn't breathe.
I yanked my arm from his grasp, scrambled to my feet, and ran.
"Luna!" Keith called after me, but I didn't look back. I just needed to get away from the suffocating air, from the people who broke my heart without a second thought.
I leaned against a lamppost on the street corner, the city lights blurring through my tears. My heart felt raw and hollow. I couldn't go home—not to Liam's cold glare and my parents' blatant favoritism. I just wanted to be alone.
I wandered aimlessly through the streets. I don't know how long I walked, but eventually, I came across a small stall where a boy was sketching portraits. He was bent over his easel, his focus absolute. When he saw me approaching, he waved me over with a friendly smile.
I was in no mood. I didn't even look up. "No, thanks," I mumbled. "I'm not feeling it."
But he was persistent. "That's the best time to look at something nice," he said, his voice bright and cheerful. "Here, look what I just finished. Cute, right?"
He turned his easel around. On it was a charming drawing of a little bunny clutching a carrot. The lines were soft, the colors warm. It was unexpectedly soothing.
The sound of his voice stirred something in my memory. My head snapped up. When I saw his face, my eyes went wide.
"It's you?" I breathed.

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