The morning light broke through Lottie's curtains in pale streaks, soft as a whisper yet sharp enough to drag her from the edge of uneasy sleep. Her eyes fluttered open to a ceiling bathed in soft gold, but the weight on her chest was leaden, a pressure she couldn't shake. Today wasn't just another morning—it was the first test of the battlefield she'd been preparing for in silence.
Downstairs, the clatter of dishes and the rise and fall of laughter filtered up, familiar and yet discordant now. Lottie slipped from bed, the floor cool against her bare feet. Every nerve hummed as if her body already knew: this was no ordinary morning. She brushed trembling fingers through her hair, smoothing it into something that passed for effortless, though the tension thrummed at her temples like a second pulse. Her lips felt dry as paper when she pressed them together, breathing shallowly, trying to will the tightness out of her chest.
By the time she reached the kitchen, the scene was perfectly set. Evelyn sat at the island, backlit by the morning sun, golden hair gleaming as though she were a saint in some Renaissance painting. Her laugh rippled through the room, light as bubbles. Grace leaned in, smiling indulgently, while Robert sipped his coffee with that faint, distracted approval reserved for his "perfect" daughter. The scent of cinnamon toast mixed with freshly brewed coffee hung thick in the air, making Lottie's stomach clench—not from hunger, but from the tension coiling inside her.
Lottie's entrance was a quiet fracture in the scene.
"Oh, there's my star student," Evelyn cooed, her smile sliding into place like a well-oiled mask. Her voice wrapped around the room, soft and effortless, a web spun with every word. "Ready for the big day?"
Lottie's throat tightened, but she let a small, practiced smile tug at her lips. "Of course. Couldn't sleep a wink." The truth layered with just enough of a joke to pass—let Evelyn hear the nerves she expected. Her fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the chair as she sat, a subtle anchor for her trembling hands.
Grace looked up, concern flitting briefly across her face. "Don't push yourself too hard, sweetheart. Breakfast?"
"I'll grab something quick. Don't want to be late." Lottie's voice was smooth, but beneath the table, her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms.
Evelyn's eyes flickered, just a flicker, but enough. Lottie's heart gave a savage little kick in her chest. There it was—the first crack. She reached for a piece of toast, fingers steady despite the tight coil of her stomach, and deliberately spread butter across it with slow, measured strokes, feeling Evelyn's gaze skitter over her every move.
"Big day for both of you," Robert murmured, glancing between them. His paper rustled as he turned a page, the sound crisp, indifferent. "Let's see some stellar marks."
Evelyn's lips curved sweetly, the picture of charm. "We'll do our best, won't we, Lottie?" Her voice dipped on Lottie's name, a touch of sugar masking the barb.
Lottie met her gaze evenly, a flicker of steel beneath the softness. "Always." Her voice was soft, but she let the weight of the word hang between them, just a little heavier than necessary.
For a heartbeat, Evelyn's smile twitched at the corner—just enough for Lottie's pulse to leap in quiet triumph. Subtle, so subtle. But Evelyn had noticed. And Evelyn never missed anything.
Throughout breakfast, Lottie measured every word, every glance. She let Evelyn shine, let her command the room as always—but with a new undercurrent. Where once she might have flinched at Evelyn's casually cutting remarks, she now absorbed them with a tilt of her head, a thoughtful hum, a tiny frown as if mulling over something just out of reach. Testing. Prodding. Watching.
At one point, Evelyn reached across the table to tuck a stray lock of Lottie's hair behind her ear. A simple, sisterly gesture, light as air.
"You've got to be careful, little sis. Don't want to look frazzled in front of everyone today," Evelyn teased softly, fingers brushing warm against Lottie's cheek.
Lottie smiled up at her, heart a drumbeat of thunder in her chest, feeling the heat of Evelyn's skin against hers, the faint scent of her perfume—a delicate mix of jasmine and something sharper, almost metallic. "Thanks, Ev. You always know what to fix."
The pause was fractional—but there. Evelyn's hand stilled for a breath too long, the fingertips twitching against her skin before withdrawing, the softness of the moment hardening just slightly around the edges.
As the breakfast dishes were cleared, Lottie felt the weight shift around her, like currents beneath still water. Grace kissed Evelyn's temple, Robert gave her a brief, approving squeeze on the shoulder. Lottie, as usual, was a step behind in affection, a peripheral figure in the domestic tableau, smiling at the edges.
But not for long.
Back in her room, Lottie shut the door softly and leaned against it, breath shuddering from her lungs. Her hands trembled as she reached for her schoolbag, fingers brushing over the familiar zipper pull, the metal cool and grounding against her skin. The ache in her chest was sharp, a blade honed from years of being almost enough, never quite enough. But beneath the ache, beneath the simmering anger, there was something else now—a bright, cold thread of determination twisting itself tighter with every beat of her heart.
She glanced at the mirror, watching her reflection lift its chin, shoulders drawing back until the girl staring out looked almost regal. Not the anxious little sister. Not the second-place shadow. No.
The quiet rap at her door made her breath catch.
"Lottie?" Evelyn's voice, light as a feather, drifted through the wood. "Need help getting ready?"
Lottie turned to the door, schooling her expression into mild surprise, one brow arching just slightly. "I'm okay, Ev. Thanks."
"Of course." A soft laugh floated back, smooth as silk. "Just checking."
The sound of retreating footsteps made Lottie's skin prickle, a faint itch between her shoulder blades. She moved to the window, peeking through the blinds to watch Evelyn glide down the walk, schoolbag slung over one shoulder, hair catching the sunlight like spun gold.
Her fingers tightened on the windowsill, nails faintly digging into the painted wood.
The perfect sister act was seamless from the outside—but Lottie had seen the jagged edges now. She just had to push, gently, patiently, until the cracks spread like a spiderweb under pressure.
At the far end of the hallway, Leo leaned casually against the windowsill, lazily twirling a pen between his fingers. The sunset poured through the glass, casting a streak of gold that lit up one side of his face. His long fingers flicked the pen cap with idle precision, dark hair catching the light in a soft tousle. He looked detached, half-lost in his own world, yet there was a sharpness in his gaze that missed nothing.
Lottie had intended to walk right past him, but in a flicker of a moment, their eyes met. Leo arched a brow, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint, knowing smile—half amusement at her, half at the chaos unfolding around them.
"Don't push too hard."
The low murmur slipped through the din like a pebble tossed into still water, rippling outward. Lottie's step hitched for just a breath, a flicker of pause she barely allowed, before she moved on. Out of the corner of her eye, his silhouette stretched long in the dying light, a loose string waiting to snap to attention.
She drew in a quiet breath, lips pressed thin, and walked on, spine straight, pulse thrumming sharp beneath her skin.
At school, the halls buzzed with pre-exam nerves, voices low and anxious, sneakers squeaking against polished floors, the scent of freshly sharpened pencils thick in the air. Lottie moved through the crowd, head slightly bowed, senses sharp as a blade's edge. She watched Evelyn in her natural habitat—laughing softly with friends, offering notes to a classmate in need, slipping her arm through Amy's and whispering something that made the girl blush and giggle. Every movement a masterstroke in the art of effortless perfection.
But today, Lottie played a different game.
She approached Amy at her locker, voice light, the words threading through the hum of hallway chatter. "Hey, did you want to review the chemistry formula together? I remember you were worried about it."
Amy blinked, startled, then lit up, her smile a warm rush of gratitude. "Oh! Yeah—yes, please! That would help so much."
From across the hall, Evelyn's gaze sharpened just slightly, her laughter dimming for the briefest moment.
Lottie's pulse jumped, adrenaline curling through her like a live wire. She laughed softly with Amy, explaining a tricky equation, making sure her voice carried just enough over the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Evelyn's fingers clench briefly around the strap of her bag, the telltale flicker of tension in her shoulders before she smoothed it away with the grace of a stage actress.
The gulf widened, fraction by fraction, under the guise of perfect sisterhood.
In the classroom, Lottie felt Evelyn's presence at her side like a cool shadow. As they took their seats, Evelyn leaned in, her breath a faint whisper against Lottie's ear, the warmth of it coiling like a serpent down her spine. "Break a leg."
Lottie smiled, heart hammering, and whispered back, "You too, Evelyn."
She saw the flicker in Evelyn's eyes as their gazes locked—a heartbeat of confusion, a question unspoken, the faintest crack in a carefully painted mask. And then it was gone, replaced by the practiced grin, the flawless composure.
The exam papers hit the desks, the thump of each packet landing sharp as a gunshot. Pens clicked, the hush falling thick over the room, punctuated only by the nervous shuffle of feet and the soft hiss of breath.
As Lottie bent over her sheet, fingers steady, mind sharp, she felt it—the widening gulf, the shift beneath the surface, the first tremors of a war only she and Evelyn knew had begun.
And beneath it all, beneath the pulse pounding in her throat, the tightness in her chest, the sharp ache of old scars pulled open, she smiled. A small, secret smile.
Because Evelyn had no idea how fast Lottie was learning to play.