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I was 28 years old and the only child of my parents. Right before Christmas, I called up my parents and told them work was too crazy, so I couldn't make it home. On the other end, my dad was quiet for a long moment before finally saying, "Alright, take care of yourself then." I felt awful, but I still bought a ticket home, planning to surprise them. Standing at the front door, I didn't announce myself or anything. I gave a gentle knock. From inside, Dad's voice burst out, super excited. "It must be our little princess. Come on, darling, open the door." I stood there, stunned. The door swung open, and when my parents saw me, their smiles suddenly froze. I stammered, my voice shaking, "Dad, who else could be your little princess?" Dad looked away, avoiding my eyes, while Mom's eyes turned red, holding back tears. ***** My name was Jessica Foley, and I was twenty-eight years old. I worked as a designer at a mid-sized company, stuck in a role that was nothing special, pulling in a paycheck that was nothing to brag about. I was the only child of my parents. At least, that was what I always thought, until today. A week before Christmas, I timed my call to my parents just right. "Hey, Dad," I said. Dad's familiar, slightly hoarse voice came through the line. "Oh, Jess." "Well, I... I probably won't be able to make it home for Christmas Eve," I said, forcing out the lie I'd rehearsed, my heart twisting a little. "Work's too crazy right now, and the client's breathing down my neck. I really can't get away." There was a long, heavy silence from Dad's end. It dragged on so much that I could almost hear the faint crackle of static and Dad's strained, quiet breathing. "Alright." It took him ages to finally get that one word out. "Work is important. Take care of yourself. Don't work yourself too hard." My nose started to sting, and I quickly said, "I know, Dad. You both take care, too. Once things settle down at work, I'll come back to see you." After hanging up, I slumped back in my office chair, feeling a heaviness in my chest I couldn't quite put into words. The truth was, the project was already over. I lied because I wanted to surprise them. I could picture it, me showing up at the door, loaded down with gifts like Santa, and my parents' faces lighting up with surprise and a bit of playful scolding. I'd imagined the lines they'd use to nag me: "You silly girl, why didn't you tell us you were coming?" Without wasting a second, I pulled up the booking app and snagged the earliest train ticket home for the next morning. It was a six-hour train ride. I pressed my forehead to the glass, watching the scenery race by outside. I couldn't wait to get home. After getting off the train, I hopped on a bus, and by the time I reached town, dusk was settling in. The streets were decked out with Christmas wreaths everywhere, giving off a full-on Christmas vibe. I took a deep breath. The air carried that familiar, comforting scent that belonged to home. Standing at the foot of the familiar building, I looked up. My home was on the third floor. The orange lights inside spilled out, warm and inviting, like someone was waiting to wrap me in a hug. I didn't call my parents to tell them I was here. I quietly made my way upstairs, careful not to make a sound. Standing in front of that familiar brown door, I could hear the TV playing softly inside, and Mom's laughter drifting out. I tried to keep my excitement in check, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Then, I raised my hand and knocked three times, gentle and rhythmic. The sound of the TV and Mom's laughter stopped abruptly. A beat later, I heard Dad's voice, unable to contain his excitement and surprise, practically shouting. "It has to be our little princess. Come on, honey. Open the door." I stood there, frozen, like my whole body had locked up. Did they already know I was coming? No way. I didn't tell anyone. Did one of my blabbermouth friends spill the beans? As my mind was spinning with wild guesses, I heard the lock click, and the door swung open. Mom was standing there, and her face was lit up with a smile she couldn't contain. But the instant she saw it was me at the door, that smile froze, as if an invisible hand had wiped it right off her face. "J-Jess?" Mom stammered. The shock and panic in her voice pierced my heart like a needle. Dad rushed out of the living room, holding a brand-new doll that looked like it cost a fortune. His expression was like Mom's, total excitement one second, then complete shock the next. And there was something else in his eyes, a mix of awkwardness and uneasy guilt that I couldn't make sense of. The whole vibe in the house instantly dropped to freezing. I stared at their stiff expressions, at the doll in Dad's hands, obviously meant for someone else, and thought back to his excited shout moments ago. An absurd, icy thought began to spiral wildly in my mind. I was shaking all over, my lips trembling as I forced out the question that would haunt me forever. "Dad, who else could be your little princess?" Chapter 2 My dad's face turned ashen right before my eyes. He instinctively hid the doll behind his back, his eyes darting away, unable to meet mine. My mom's eyes welled up with tears instantly, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say something, but not a single word came out. She stood there, completely at a loss, like a kid who'd been caught doing something wrong. I stood at the doorway, the draft from the hallway blowing in, making me feel frozen to the core. But that wind couldn't compare to the chill inside me. I was like an outsider, calmly watching this ridiculous scene play out. I saw the coffee table in the living room was piled high with all sorts of snacks I'd never seen before: chips, candy, and chocolate. I never liked that stuff, and my mom knew it. On the couch, there was a brand-new set of pink pajamas, clearly meant for a little girl, with adorable cartoon bunnies on them. Those weren't mine. Mine were plain blue cotton ones, kept in my bedroom. My mind was spinning, all the clues lining up, pointing straight at a reality I couldn't bring myself to accept. "Is there someone else living here?" My voice came out dry and scratchy. My dad turned his head away and let out a long sigh. My mom's tears finally fell. She came closer, reaching out to take my hand. Instinctively, I took a step back, pulling away from her. Her hand froze awkwardly in midair. "Jess, come inside. It's cold out there," she said, her voice choked with tears. "It's not what you think." I didn't move. I stood there, staring at them, frozen like a statue. I needed an explanation that could make me believe all of this was just a bad dream. We stood there in awkward silence for about a minute. My dad finally caved. He rubbed his brow, sounding worn out and defeated. "Come in. I'll tell you." I slipped off my shoes and stepped into this house that was at once familiar and strangely foreign. My dad motioned for me to sit and then poured me a cup of water. I cradled the cup, and my fingers felt numb. "Her name is Camille Frost," my dad said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We adopted her a year ago." Adopted? That word was like a thunderclap, blasting through my mind. Without me ever knowing, my parents had adopted a daughter who could take my place. "Why?" I asked, my voice trembling before I realized it. "You're always away, hardly ever home," my mom said, wiping her tears. "The place felt dead quiet. We felt so lonely." Dad said, "Cam is a good kid. She's had it rough. Her parents died in an accident, and she was stuck in the orphanage for ages." Mom added, "She's really sweet and smart. She's very good at saying things that please us." Listening to them take turns explaining, I found the whole thing utterly absurd. So, because they felt lonely, they thought it was okay to bring in another kid to fill the emptiness? And because she was sweet, they thought they could give her all the love that was supposed to be mine, without a hint of guilt. But what about me? I worked late nights at the office, grinding away overtime, just so I could get back early. I racked my brain trying to surprise my parents. And now, it all felt like a joke. "So, when you called and said you missed me, you were actually talking about her, right?" I asked. "And when you told me to take care of myself, you were actually saying it for her, weren't you? "All this, the Christmas Eve dinner, the new clothes, the snacks. None of it was meant for me. It was all for her, right?" My voice kept getting louder and sharper with every word. My dad's expression grew more and more unpleasant. "Jessica Foley!" he snapped in a low, angry voice. "How could you think like that? We did this for your own good." For my own good? He continued, "You're out there busting your ass all alone. We were worried you'd get too stressed out. With a little sister around us, you'll have someone to watch your back in the future." I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. Oh really? A sister, more than ten years my junior, was supposed to be my backup? That was the biggest joke I'd ever heard in my life. I suddenly remembered something and shot to my feet. "What about my room? Where is she staying?" Mom looked instantly panicked. I immediately understood everything. I pushed past them, sprinting for my bedroom like a wild animal. I could find that door blindfolded. And now, brand-new cartoon stickers were plastered all over it. I flung the door open, and the scene inside made me feel like I'd been plunged into freezing water. My desk was stacked with someone else's textbooks and homework. My closet was hung with someone else's pink dresses. My bed was made up with someone else's cartoon sheets. Every trace of me had been wiped away, as if I'd never existed here. This wasn't my bedroom anymore. This was Camille's princess room, and I became nothing but an intruder. I felt my head spinning so hard that I could barely stay on my feet. Right at that moment, I heard the sound of a key sliding into the lock from outside. Then the door swung open. Chapter 3 A girl in a white puffer jacket, her hair in a ponytail, showed up at the door. She looked about fifteen or sixteen, with porcelain skin, big eyes, and delicate features. Actually, she was pretty cute. She paused for a second when she saw how many people were inside. When she caught the awkward, guilty, and flustered look on my parents' faces, a flicker of wariness crossed her eyes. Then her gaze landed on me. She sized me up, and her eyes tinged with a faint hostility. "Dad, Mom, I'm back," she said, her voice sickly sweet. She changed her shoes and, as if it was the most natural thing ever, handed her backpack straight to my mom as she said, "Ms. Smith praised me today. She said I made a huge improvement on the mock exam." "Really? Cam, you're amazing." Mom beamed with pride, as if all the gloom from one minute ago had never happened. Dad's face lit up, too. "I always knew Cam was the brightest." The three of them looked so happy together, like a warm family snapshot. And me? I was the awkward blot that didn't belong, messing up their perfect picture. "And who is this?" Camille asked, glancing at me as if she didn't already know. "This is... This is your sister, Jessica," Mom stammered. "She... She's back for the Christmas holidays." "Oh, nice to meet you, Jessica." Camille gave me a smile that seemed friendly and innocent enough, but to me, it felt painfully out of place. Then she headed straight for my room. Well, it was hers now. "Jessica, why are you standing here? I need to get changed," Camille asked, tilting her head at me, sounding like I was some clueless guest. I blocked the doorway, refusing to budge. But my body moved before my mind caught up. Why? Why did she get to take everything from me, as if she owned it? It was my room, my parents, my home. And now she was acting like she was the queen of the house, ordering me out. "This is my room," I said, looking straight at her, each word deliberate. Camille's smile stiffened for a second. She looked to my parents for help. Mom rushed over and grabbed my arm. "Jess, what are you doing? Cam's been living here for a year now. She's already settled in. You're the big sister. Let her have it, okay?" There it was again. I was the big one. I'd heard that line a million times growing up. When I was a kid, whenever the neighbor's kid grabbed my toys, Mom would always say, "You're the big one. Let him have it." When my cousin ruined my books, Mom would say, "You're the big one. Don't get mad at him." I had figured, since I was my parents' only child, I'd have never heard that line. But nope. At twenty-eight, they went and gave me a "little sister," so I could keep on being the big one. That was the last straw. "I'll say it again." My voice was ice-cold. "This is my room. Make her move out." "Jessica!" Dad's face darkened. "Are you enough? It's Christmas Eve. Why do you have to ruin it for everyone? It's just a room. Why the big fuss? You can sleep in the guest room." I let out a bitter laugh. Tears threatened to spill, but I laughed anyway. So, to them, I was making a big fuss. Everything I'd built up over twenty-something years, all my sense of belonging, was shattered by them giving my room to someone else. "Great. That's great." I nodded. Then I turned and walked into the bedroom, with their shocked faces watching me. I didn't bother looking at Camille, whose face went pale in an instant. I walked straight to the closet and yanked the door open. One by one, I pulled out all those bright, colorful dresses and tossed them onto the floor. After that, I yanked open the desk drawer and swept out all the textbooks, stationery, and her diary, dumping them on the floor. Finally, I strode over to the bed, yanked up the blanket, sheets, and pillow, bundled them together in my arms, and carried them straight to the door. "What are you doing?" Mom screamed, her voice shaking with disbelief. Camille's tears streamed down her face as she looked at Dad. "Dad... my stuff..." Dad was shaking with rage, pointing at me. "You... You are so unbelievable." I ignored them. With all of Camille's stuff in my arms, I headed to the living room and swung open the front door. Then I tossed everything out into the hallway. After that, I turned around and saw the three of them standing there, jaws practically hitting the floor. I grabbed my pajamas from my suitcase. Then I marched back into "my" bedroom, slammed the door shut in their faces, and locked it for good measure. Finally, the world was quiet.