Chapter 3

"Thank you for helping me find a job."

Charline helped pour water for my mother with affection. I continued to eat in silence and resolutely turned my focus elsewhere.

As evening descended, Charline leaned against the wall of my room on time.

"Sometimes, opportunities matter more than hard work.

"Some people toil endlessly, studying relentlessly to get into college and working overtime day in and day out, yet their salary remains paltry. Unlike me, all I need to do is dress up and apply my makeup each day to breeze through work.

"Why doesn't your mother introduce such a wonderful job to you? Right. Because your mother loves me more," Charline concluded.

As an office worker, my leaders kept me revising the plans well into the night, which was annoying.

But it was less infuriating than a constant belittling from someone who knew nothing of the struggle.

"Charline, don't you think you're being childish?

"After all these years, you still haven't grasped that you can only hold onto what you earn yourself."

Of course, Charline wasn't interested in hearing my truth. She merely believed I was green with envy over her good fortune.

With a derisive snort, she slammed the door and stormed out.

My parents were out for a stroll, their absence explaining the sudden surge of her ire.

Charline's leisurely job, which had begun so effortlessly, gradually piled on more responsibilities from the second week.

She was now in charge of handling express deliveries, ordering meals and afternoon tea for the company, and fielding calls for various document consultations.

For others, these tasks might not have been daunting, but for Charline, who was accustomed to a parasitic lifestyle, even the slightest exertion was unbearable.

"I had everything under control. But when they brought the food to the office, it felt like my hands were about to break.

"They even kept finding faults, either criticizing the store I chose or mixing up their orders.

"Are they here to work or to play the lady?"

I raised an eyebrow.

Indeed, the role suited Charline perfectly.

Naturally, my mother couldn't bear to hear Charline's grievances.

After dinner, my mother pulled me into the room.

"You also heard what Charline just said.

"Madeline, tell your friend to take care of Charline."

I was accustomed to this preferential treatment, yet a pang of sadness lingered.

"Mom, do you remember when I first started working? I made a mistake with some data and got scolded by my boss.

"I came home in tears, and you said I was too delicate, unable to endure even the smallest hardship. You compared it to your past, when you were truly suffering and exhausted."

I pried open my mother's fingers, which had been gripping my shoulders, one by one.

"I send this same message to your precious Charline," I stated flatly.

My mother was seething with anger and raised her hand to slap me, but her hand hovered in the air because my calm demeanor held her back.

Of course, the outcome was as expected. Charline emerged from my mother's room. Her eyes were red with indignation, and she glared at me.

In my dreams that night, I revisited the second year when Charline had moved into our house.

During a monthly exam at my high school, I had topped the class while she was caught cheating.

When my parents were called in, my mother was reprimanded by the teacher so harshly that her head was hanging low in shame. Yet, upon learning that it was my mother, the teacher had casually remarked that I was still a good student, a promising seedling.

That day, my mother had been exceptionally kind, taking me to the mall for the first time to buy new clothes. Charline, meanwhile, was at home, reflecting on her mistakes.

But upon returning and entering my room, I found that all the dolls on my bookshelf had been viciously dismembered, their remains strewn across the floor.

The next day, Charline unearthed the love letter I had hidden deep within my drawer. She circulated it throughout the class, exposing not only my secret crush but also the fragile, unspoken dreams of my adolescence that I had penned down in my diary.