Sara's sixteenth birthday arrived with glitter and noise. The Chen mansion lit up with chandeliers, and the garden overflowed with laughter and music. Relatives and family friends filled the halls, praising Mr. Chen's success and Sara's beauty.
"Such a fine young lady," one aunt gushed, clutching Sara's hand. "Your mother must be proud, watching from heaven."
Before Sara could respond, Mrs. Chen appeared, her arm linked with her husband's. "She is my daughter now," she said smoothly, her smile radiant. "Everything I do, I do for her future."
The guests applauded, impressed by the stepmother's devotion. Sara forced a polite smile, her chest tightening with discomfort.
It was then that she noticed a boy near the back of the hall. He stood tall, dressed in a simple black suit, his dark eyes calm yet unreadable. When their gazes met, he offered her a faint nod.
"Who is that?" she whispered to her cousin, Mei Lin, who was busily filling her plate at the buffet.
"Oh, him?" Mei Lin smirked. "That's Daniel Li. His father's a business associate of Uncle Chen. They say he's sharp — already helping in his family's company, even though he's barely twenty. Don't get your hopes up, though. He's too serious for his own good."
Sara glanced back at the young man, curiosity flickering in her chest. There was something steady about his presence, something different from the shallow compliments of the people around her.
As the evening continued, Sara's friends from school surrounded her.
"Happy birthday, Sara!" said Emily Zhang, one of her closest companions. She handed her a beautifully wrapped box. "You deserve the best."
Behind her, another friend, Hannah Wu, chimed in, "Yes, we'll celebrate properly after this party. You'll come, right?"
Sara smiled, warmed by their enthusiasm, but a tiny voice whispered inside her — Do they really care, or do they just want what you can give?
Later that night, after the guests had left and the music faded, Sara found her father in his study, sipping tea. She hesitated at the door before stepping inside.
"Papa," she began softly, "don't you think… people see her differently than she really is?"
Mr. Chen looked up, startled. "Who are you talking about?"
"You know who," she whispered. "She's not what she pretends to be. I hear her, sometimes… the way she speaks when no one else is listening."
For a long moment, silence filled the room. Then her father set down his cup and sighed.
"Sara, you must stop this nonsense." His tone was weary, his gaze firm. "Your stepmother has done nothing wrong. She runs this house, she hosts our guests, she supports me in business. She is the reason everything still stands."
"But, Papa—"
"No more." His voice cut through her protest like a blade. "You are young. You don't understand. One day, you will see her worth."
Sara bit her lip, fighting the sting in her eyes. She wanted to scream, to beg him to listen, but the heavy wall between them was unshakable.
As she turned to leave, she caught sight of Mrs. Chen standing at the door. Her smile was sweet, but her eyes glimmered with quiet triumph.
Sara's heart sank.
Her father would never see it. He was blind.