Chapter 2 - The First Blow
"Mom," I hissed, my voice dropping into a dangerous, razor-sharp register as I crossed the distance between us. "What is the meaning of this? Why is Payton wearing that dress?"
Dany blinked her eyelashes innocently, feigning confusion as she smoothed a non-existent wrinkle down her champagne jumpsuit. "Oh, Lauren, don't be so dramatic. It's just a white dress. White is a very popular color this season. You don't own a monopoly on tulle, do you?"
"It’s Sienna’s Sweet 16!" I retorted, my voice rising despite my best efforts to keep the scene contained. "She designed this dress with a local seamstress months ago! You knew—you *had* to have known."
"Oh, stop making a mountain out of a molehill," my mother snapped, her cane tapping sharply against the wood floor. Susan turned her gaze toward the hallway, where Sienna was just stepping out of the green room, holding her delicate white rose bouquet with the tiny silver photo charm of her and her grandmother dangling from the ribbon.
Sienna froze.
The color drained entirely from my daughter’s face, leaving her looking translucent, like porcelain about to shatter under the slightest pressure. Her eyes darted from Payton’s gleaming white skirt to her own, registering the identical silhouettes, the matching sweetheart necklines, the exact same dream she had nurtured for months now being worn like a cheap costume by her lifelong rival.
"Let your cousin walk in first," Mom said loudly, her voice cutting through the ambient music like a knife. She smiled warmly at Payton. "She looks better in it anyway. The cut flatters her shoulders."
The words hung in the air, heavy, cruel, and dripping with a casual malice that took my breath away.
"Mom!" I shouted, stepping defensively in front of Sienna, whose lower lip began to tremble violently. "How can you say that? To her face? On her birthday?"
"Lauren, don't start your scenes," Susan sighed, rolling her eyes as if I were the unreasonable child throwing a tantrum. "Everything always has to be a tragedy with you. Payton just happened to buy a similar dress at the boutique downtown. It’s a compliment to your taste, really."
Sienna’s hand reached out blindly, her fingers trembling as they caught my sleeve. Her knuckles were stark white. I looked down at her, and the sight of unshed tears pooling in her dark eyes broke something deep inside my chest.
"Please, Mom," Sienna whispered, her voice barely a breath, fragile and broken. "Not here. Don't fight. I... I don't care. Let her go first."
"Sienna, no," I whispered fiercely, my hands cupping her cold face. "You don't have to take this. This is your day."
"I just want everyone to have a good time," she murmured, repeating the mantra she had lived by her entire sixteen years of life, swallowing her own agony to keep the peace. "Please, Mom. Just let it go."
Before I could argue, Dany smoothly stepped past us, guiding Payton toward the center of the room. The guests, who had started filtering in through the side entrances, began to murmur and applaud. Cameras flashed. The phone on the tripod near the flower wall continued to record every agonizing second, its little red light mocking us in the shadows.
May you like
Payton walked into the banquet hall first, waving gracefully to the applauding crowd, her face painted with a brilliant, triumphant smile. She was living the entrance my daughter had dreamed of. And Sienna was left standing in the dark hallway, listening to the applause meant for her, biting her inner cheek so hard I saw a thin line of crimson bead against her skin.
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