The morning sun spilled gold across the living room floorboards, cutting through the faint smell of vanilla that clung to the old oak furniture. At the breakfast table, two girls sat opposite one another, identical in appearance: chestnut hair, grey eyes, delicate cheekbones, mirrored expressions. Yet they were opposites in every other way.
Elena's movements were precise, controlled. She sliced her toast methodically, spread butter evenly, placed her cup of milk neatly beside the plate. Mara, in contrast, pushed her food around, crumbs scattering onto the floor. She twirled a fork in her fingers like she had somewhere else to be, somewhere that wasn't here, in the careful world of her sister.
"You'll be late again if you don't focus," Elena said, her voice calm, soft, almost soothing. There was no reprimand in her tone,only the certainty of someone who had never failed at anything she tried.
Mara shrugged, impatient. "I'll get there," she muttered, her gaze drifting out the window. "You act like life is a choreographed dance. Not everyone likes marching in step."
Elena's lips curved into a faint, almost sad smile. "Maybe. But some of us need to," she murmured, and for a moment, the air between them was thick with a quiet understanding. Mara looked away, irritated, yet a twinge of guilt prickled her chest.
The tension wasn't new. It had always existed, simmering beneath their shared childhood, like a current just beneath still water. One was always praised, the other criticized. One obedient, one defiant. But beneath it all, they were bound together by something deeper;something neither fully understood.