From the very beginning, I knew my twin brother, Leo, was the favorite. Not just my parents' favorite, but the favorite of everyone who came across us. He was beautiful, lovely, cold, reserved—in fact, effortlessly cool. Wherever he went, attention followed. He has a black hair and pure cold look eyes. He is absolutely beautiful.
Me? I was the opposite. I too has black hair, a whiter skin and cute dumb clear looking eyes. And my hair was longer and was always tied up as pony tail as I preferred. I hate cutting my hair you can say I have tonsurephobia.
I wasn't as beautiful as my twin brother, or at least, that's what I always believed. Standing next to him, I felt dull, almost invisible. Though my aunt often insisted that both of us were beautiful, I could never accept it. My mind clung to the comparisons.
If I had one strength, it was books. Numbers, formulas, words—those were my companions. My genius, if I could call it that, lived in academics. But Leo's genius was different. He was an artist, the kind who drew with quiet hands and made the world pause with his sketches.
My mother would often laugh as she compared us. "Liam, you'll make a great doctor one day. As for Leo—he can be anything he wants. No one can control him." She always said it with a sparkle in her eyes, the kind of sparkle that never seemed to shine when she looked at me.
I still remember those words as if they were carved into my heart.
Yet, despite it all, Leo and I were close. Fraternal twins, but inseparable. He loved me in his own way, fiercely protective even when I didn't deserve it. But sometimes, standing next to him, I couldn't help but feel smaller—like a shadow that never quite caught the light.
That feeling only deepened when I was five.
The Day Micah Arrived
It was a bright morning in kindergarten when the teacher, Ms. Vera, introduced a new student. I remember how my small heart skipped the moment I saw him.
He was delicate-looking, with hair that caught the light and eyes the color of emeralds—green and sparkling, like jewels I had never seen before. My chest tightened. My childish mind screamed with a strange, urgent desire: I want to protect this child forever. I want to be beside her always.
Her. That's what I thought.
The teacher introduced the child as Micah. The name didn't register. My head was still floating in its own world, convinced that this new classmate was a pretty girl.
When Ms. Vera guided him to a seat near Leo and me, I noticed the tears clinging stubbornly to his lashes. He looked fragile, like porcelain on the verge of breaking. My heart ached.
The moment the teacher left the room, I couldn't stop myself. Ignoring the curious gaze of my brother, I leaned closer and gently reached for Micah's hand.
But instead of warmth, I felt a harsh tug.
Micah yanked his hand away with surprising force, and I, clumsy and unbalanced, toppled right off my chair. The floor smacked my small body, and pain flared across my side. Humiliation came next, burning hotter than the sting in my knees. My eyes welled up, and before I could stop myself, I was crying loudly—louder than I wanted, louder than I should have.
Leo stood immediately. Though his face was cold as always, I knew him well enough to see the sharp anger in his eyes. He stepped in front of me, shielding me completely from Micah's view, and helped me up with steady hands.
"Why did you push my brother?" Leo demanded, his voice low and sharp.
Micah's emerald eyes widened in shock. Tears spilled faster down his pale cheeks. His words tumbled out between hiccups.
"I…hiccup… didn't…hiccup… he held my hand first…hiccup… I only pulled away…hiccup…"
Leo's grip on my arm tightened. His glare didn't waver. "But still, can't you be gentler? Look at him—he's crying."
Micah's trembling lips parted, but no sound came. He only cried harder, shoulders shaking.
I couldn't bear it. My chest hurt watching Micah crumble under Leo's fierce protectiveness.
"Stop it, Leo!" I scolded, wiping at my own tears. "It's not her fault. I just lost my balance. You're making her cry. She's just a girl—"
Leo's head snapped toward me, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "Are you stupid? Can't you see it was his fault? He pulled too hard. And why would you call him a girl?"
"Because she is a girl!" I retorted, frustrated, desperate to defend Micah.
"You're stupid," Leo snapped, his face twisting with uncharacteristic anger. He turned away from me, clearly upset, and stalked back to his chair.
My throat burned, but I ignored his annoyance. I turned back to Micah, my heart softening. His tears stained his cheeks, and something in me wanted desperately to comfort him. With trembling little hands, I reached up and wiped his tears.
"Don't touch me!" he cried, pulling back sharply. "Dirty!"
The word stabbed me, but I forced a smile. I showed him the wet stain on my sleeve where I had wiped my own tears. "See? It's not dirty anymore. I can clean yours too. Don't cry, pretty girl."
His head jerked up. His voice, though shaky, was loud. "I'm not a girl—I'm a boy! My name is Micah! How can you be so stupid?"
My world froze.
The insult cut sharper than I expected, but the revelation—that this delicate, jewel-eyed child was a boy—shook me more. Before I could say anything, he sniffled, pulled out a small handkerchief from his bag, and wiped his tears himself. Then he turned back toward the front of the classroom, ignoring me completely.
My chest felt hollow.
Moments later, Ms. Vera returned, and Leo called out to me softly. "Hey, sit down. Ms. Vera is here."
I sat stiffly in my seat, caught between embarrassment and the heavy ache of rejection.
The Playground
That day, I couldn't focus on anything. Micah's words echoed endlessly in my head: Stupid. I'm not a girl.
When break time came, Leo invited me to the playground as always, but I refused. I had seen Ms. Vera lead Micah outside, and the thought of facing him again filled me with shame.
"I'll wait for you," Leo said gently. "Don't keep me waiting too long." He left with that calm stride of his, disappearing into the sunlight.
After a few minutes of sitting alone, guilt gnawed at me. I hated disappointing Leo. So, I decided to follow. Maybe I could use the moment to apologize to Micah properly.
But what I saw froze me in place.
On the swing set, Micah was laughing. Laughing with my brother. His emerald eyes sparkled in a way they never did when he looked at me. And Leo, calm as always, seemed perfectly at ease beside him.
I walked toward them, my small heart pounding painfully.
Leo spotted me first. "Hey, Micah, this is my twin brother, Liam. The one you pushed earlier." His tone was steady, his words sharp as always. "You should apologize to him. He's my best friend."
Micah's smile faltered. His eyes flicked toward me with obvious reluctance. "I didn't mean to push him… but as you requested…" He turned, forcing the words out. "I'm sorry for pushing you. You're Leo's brother, and I wouldn't want to harm you."
My chest tightened. Leo's brother. Not Liam. Just an extension of Leo.
"Liam, he apologized, okay?" Leo continued. "Micah is our friend now."
"No, I'm your friend. Not his!" Micah snapped, his voice sharp.
Leo's brows furrowed. "No. Me and Liam are one. If you want to be my friend, you have to be his friend too. We're not separate—we're always together."
Micah huffed, looking away. "…Fine. But he has to apologize for calling me a girl."
"Liam," Leo said, his voice softer now, "apologize to Micah."
But I couldn't speak. My eyes blurred with tears. Leo's words made me happy—he saw us as one—but Micah's rejection sliced too deep. He didn't want me. He wanted Leo.
Before I could stop myself, I turned and ran back into the classroom, tears streaming down my face. I heard Leo call after me, his voice breaking the air, but I didn't stop.
The Aftermath
I fell sick for two days. Feverish, weak, and unwilling to face the world. When I returned to school, I discovered the inevitable: Leo and Micah had grown close in my absence.
Micah eventually accepted me as a friend too, but it was clear his affection was conditional—only present when Leo was around. Without Leo, he treated me with indifference, as though I barely existed.
I told myself I had accepted it.
But even now, as I sit here in Grade 11, I know the truth: a part of me never stopped hurting.
Micah's laughter still rings brighter when it's for Leo. My brother's light has always drawn people in, and I remain in the shadow, watching silently, pretending it doesn't matter.