In Her Shadow, In Her Light
Lena watched from the corner of her eye as her younger sister, Ellie, glided through the crowded room, laughter and warmth following her like a halo. People seemed to light up just by being near her, drawn to her natural ease, her quick smile. Lena felt the familiar twist in her stomach—a quiet, sharp ache that she hated to acknowledge.
They were only a year apart, yet the gap felt oceans wide. Where Ellie sparkled, Lena felt hidden in the shadows, always the one holding the camera, never in front of it. Their mother would laugh and say, “Lena’s the quiet one, the thinker,” as if this was meant to soothe her. But it only deepened the divide.
Later that evening, Ellie came to her room, unbothered by the tension that thickened the air between them. “You looked sad tonight,” she said, tilting her head with genuine concern.
Lena took a breath, bitterness rising up like bile, but when she looked into Ellie’s wide, earnest eyes, the words crumbled. “I… I didn’t mean to,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ellie smiled softly and took her hand. “You don’t have to mean to. Just be you, Lena. That’s enough.”
And for a moment, Lena felt the jealousy unravel, the sharp ache replaced by something softer, something almost warm.
