1 My sister, Elara, who had always been the epitome of cool composure, was acting like a completely different person lately. She forbade me from even talking to boys, her possessiveness was off the charts, and she’d even… introduced me to certain adult toys. I was completely baffled. It wasn't until I overheard a heated argument between her and a friend that the terrifying truth finally clicked into place. The person she was in love with… was me. Her own sister. This had to be wrong. … I woke up with a splitting headache, the ghost of last night's party still pounding against my skull. Stumbling out of bed, I shuffled to the living room. Elara was already there, eating breakfast. She glanced up, her expression softening. "Feeling rough? Here, drink this. It'll help." Gulping down the hangover cure in a daze, it suddenly hit me how strange this was. Elara hadn't yelled at me. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, pre-emptively. "I shouldn't have been drinking. It won't happen again." "It's fine," she said, a cryptic smile playing on her lips. "You can drink more often from now on." I didn't get it, but as long as she wasn't mad, I was relieved. I picked up my fork and stabbed at a fried egg. "Yeah, I guess I needed the liquid courage," I mused aloud. "It's the only way I'd ever have dared to kiss him." Elara's hand froze mid-air. "You… you wanted to kiss your crush?" I was too lost in my happy memories to notice the shift in her tone. "James! You know, the heartthrob of the art department. I can't believe I actually got him to come to my birthday party." I sighed dreamily. "His face was so soft… and his lips… I just want to do it again." "Stella." Elara set down her fork and turned to face me fully, her eyes sharp and cold. She was older than me, smarter, more experienced. Her gaze always had a way of making me feel small and clumsy. "What is it?" "You can't." "Huh?" I was completely lost. "Well, that's up to him, isn't it? It's not like he's my boyfriend yet." The word "boyfriend" seemed to trigger something in her. She shot up from her chair, her hand clamping around my wrist like a vice. Her face was a thundercloud of fury. "Boyfriend? No. Not even him." A surge of anger flared inside me. This was insane. "What gives you the right? Not even my own mother is this controlling!" I snapped, yanking my arm free. "It was one thing when you said it would affect my grades, but I'm in college now! Just because you're single doesn't mean I have to be single with you forever!" Elara just stared at me, her expression a strange mix of anger and… hurt. She was hurt? I was the one who was hurt! Fuming, I spun around and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the frame rattled. 2 Starving and irritable, I sat through my 8 AM lecture, the fight replaying in my head. Elara was my stepsister. My mother had remarried when I was ten, creating a new family with my stepfather. But their happiness was short-lived. A few years later, they were both killed in a car crash, leaving me and Elara, six years my senior, to fend for ourselves. From that day on, she was the only constant in the shifting landscape of my life. I remember waiting for her after my elementary school classes let out, long after all the other kids had gone home. She was just starting high school, but she learned to cook for me. The first few attempts were always burnt, but I’d eat every last bite with a grin, telling her she was a genius. I knew she wasn't my real sister, and a part of me was terrified that one day she’d decide I was too much of a burden and leave me. I never asked for pocket money for snacks. When a classmate bullied me, stomping on my homework until it was a crumpled mess, I just told Elara I’d tripped. But she saw right through it. She marched me straight to the principal's office to demand justice. I hid behind her small frame, watching in awe as she calmly and rationally argued with the teachers and the other kid's parents, displaying a maturity far beyond her years. On the way home, she took me to a corner store and bought me a huge bag of all my favorite snacks. That was the day I knew. I would never be abandoned. She was the one who came to every parent-teacher conference. For my eighteenth birthday, she bought me a beautiful princess gown I’d been dreaming of but could never afford. She was the best sister in the world. She was also intensely possessive, hating it when anyone else got close to me. When I received my first love letter in high school, she found it and tore it to shreds. If she saw me holding hands with a friend, she'd give me the silent treatment for days. She was just terrified of losing me. She didn't have many friends of her own and had never dated. Her entire world revolved around me. Thinking it through, my anger softened into a pang of sympathy. She was probably just scared that if I found a "heartthrob," I'd leave her behind. As if I ever could. I decided to talk to her tonight, have a real heart-to-heart, clear the air, and reaffirm our sisterly bond. That evening, after my shower, I padded over to Elara’s room. Just as I raised my hand to knock, I heard it. A soft, breathy moan from inside. I froze, every muscle in my body tensing up. 3 I tried to tiptoe away, but the door creaked open. Elara stood there in a white silk nightgown, her hair a dark cascade around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. The moment she saw me, her eyes turned to ice. "What do you want?" Her coldness stung. Forgetting my embarrassment, I stepped forward and took her hand, swinging it back and forth like I used to when I was little. "Elara," I pleaded, "please don't be mad at me. I was just running my mouth earlier. Don't take it seriously, okay?" Her expression remained unreadable, but the frigid wall around her seemed to thaw slightly. "Come in." The room was filled with the warm, floral scent of incense. I flopped onto her plush bed, my mind replaying that sound. Elara had been… Then I remembered I was still holding her hand. The hand she must have just been using. A hot blush crept up my neck, my fingertips tingling. It was like discovering a secret, intimate side to someone you thought you knew completely. My face was on fire. It took me a moment to remember why I’d come. I rolled onto my side. The warm lamplight softened the elegant lines of her face. "Sis," I said, my voice serious, "I love you." Her eyes widened in surprise, but the look was fleeting, replaced by a shadow of sadness. "No matter who I fall for in the future," I pressed on, "you will always be the most important person in my life." "Mm," was all she said. Sometimes, I couldn't figure her out. We were closer than anyone, but I could never quite decipher the complex emotions swirling in her eyes. She moved closer, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my cheek and tucking it behind my ear. The faint perfume from her skin filled my senses, and my thoughts started to scatter again. The heat made my cheeks burn, and I buried my face in the duvet. "Sis," I mumbled, "just now… you were…" Her eyes flickered. "You heard?" "Yeah." She gently pulled the duvet away from my face, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Stella, don't tell me you've never… taken care of yourself?" My face turned a shade of crimson I didn't know was possible. I yanked the covers over my head, my voice muffled. "I just don't like it! I'm a monk! All I care about is my studies!" I heard her low, throaty laugh from outside my fabric cave. God, this is so embarrassing. Suddenly, the covers were ripped away, and Elara slid into bed beside me. Our hair tangled together as her hand began a slow, deliberate journey down my body. A hot breath ghosted across my ear. "Here," she whispered. "Let me show you." A shiver, sharp and electric, shot through me. My legs instinctively clamped together. My mind turned to mush. Something about this felt wrong, so incredibly wrong. But… Elara had taught me everything. How to tie my shoes, how to ride a bike, how to face the world. So, this… this was probably okay too, right? 4 The sheets were a mess. Elara stripped the bed and put on a clean set while I hid in the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to cool the inferno raging within me. My heart was a runaway train, threatening to burst from my chest. My body still thrummed with the phantom sensations of pleasure, my mind filled with the scent of her skin and the memory of her touch. I covered my face, mortified. Was this the difference six years made? Elara was an expert. She seemed so cool and detached, but she must have practiced… a lot. I crept back to my own room, but a message from her buzzed on my phone before I could even close the door. Elara: Embarrassed, huh? Huh, my ass, I thought, resisting the urge to throw my phone. Who do you think you are, some kind of CEO from a romance novel? I hammered at my screen, my thumbs flying. Me: No. I just prefer sleeping alone. Elara: Really? When you were little, you were so scared of the dark you’d stand outside my door clutching your teddy bear until I let you in. You wouldn't sleep unless I held you. Elara: Are you sure you don't want a hug, Stella? The problem with knowing someone your whole life is that they have an endless supply of blackmail material. Annoyed, I bit back a grin and typed furiously. Me: If you want someone to hug so badly, go find a boyfriend! Be careful or you'll get finger cramps from all that 'practice'! She didn't reply for a long time. I considered it a victory. With my path to conquering James's heart now clear, I felt a smug satisfaction. She didn't have anyone. Hmph. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my screen lit up. A new message from Elara. Elara: I already have someone I like. Smack. The phone slipped, smacking me square in the face. Elara liked someone? Who? How did I not know this? Why didn't she tell me?! I fired off a series of angry, knife-wielding emojis, but she never revealed who it was. The thought kept me awake all night, my mind racing as I mentally scrolled through every person she knew. Nothing. She had someone she liked. She would get married one day. Have a cute baby. And I would just be… the aunt who visits on holidays. For some reason, a strange tightness constricted my chest. It was probably just from staying up too late. 5 From that day on, Elara started avoiding me. The anger I felt was quickly being replaced by a familiar panic, the same cold dread I felt as a child, terrified she would leave me. So, that weekend, I asked James to the movies. He was tall and lean, with fair skin and delicate features. A simple white shirt and black pants were enough to turn heads wherever he went. The first time I saw him at the art club, my heart had done a backflip. But so many girls liked him, I’d never had the confidence to make a move. Until my birthday party, when I finally worked up the nerve. We had both been drunk… I wondered if he even remembered the kiss. "James…" "We have about half an hour," he said, his voice gentle. "Want to walk around for a bit?" I swallowed the rest of my sentence. "Okay." We walked side by side, a careful ten-centimeter gap between us. I found myself drifting closer, my hand inching towards his, my fingertips just about to brush against his. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was Elara. Elara: Where are you? Elara: Your roommate said you went on a date. Elara: Why didn't you tell me? I raised an eyebrow. Wasn't she the one giving me the cold shoulder? Why the sudden urgency? "Stella?" James's voice broke through my thoughts. "Everything okay?" I quickly shoved my phone back in my pocket. "Yeah. I was just saying, that handbag shop looks nice. Want to go in?" "Who was that?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "You looked pretty focused." "My sister," I said, a self-deprecating smile on my face. "She's a bit… strict." James just smiled warmly. "You two must be really close." 6 After Elara's texts, my mind was elsewhere. James, however, was fully engaged, earnestly discussing options with the sales associate. He picked out a few and presented them to me. He looked a little shy, but his gaze was sincere. "This is my first time picking something out for a girl. Do you… want to try them on?" I glanced at the price tags and was about to refuse—it felt a bit much for a first date. But then my eyes landed on a sleek, minimalist black bag. It would look perfect on Elara. "Okay," I said, changing my mind. Standing in front of the mirror, I pictured Elara wearing it. It suited her even more than I'd imagined. I hated myself for it, for thinking about her at a time like this. She didn't deserve it. "I'll take this one," I heard myself say. When it came time to pay, James and I entered into a polite but frantic battle, each of us trying to scan our own payment code before the other. After a few breathless rounds, we were both laughing. I leaned in and whispered, "Let me get this one. I want to give it to my sister." James finally conceded. "You two really are close." I pulled up my payment screen again, but before I could present it, a hand holding a credit card sliced through the air between us. "I'll pay." The voice was cool and achingly familiar. I whipped my head around. There stood Elara, looking impossibly chic and formidable in a white pantsuit. What was she doing here? Before I could even process her presence, she let out a cold snort. "A man who makes a girl pay for her own bag? Is that the best you can do?" James's face flushed crimson as he tried to explain, but I instinctively clapped a hand over his mouth. Seeing this, Elara's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "You like him that much? One kiss wasn't enough, you're already desperate for a second?" James's eyes widened in confusion, looking at me. "Elara, shut up!" I hissed, mortified. I shot James an apologetic look and gestured for Elara to follow me outside. She shot him one last withering glare, her voice dripping with contempt. "You don't deserve her." Then, she turned on her heel and strode out of the store, leaving a stunned James in her wake. 7 Elara's heels clicked furiously on the pavement as she stormed ahead, somehow looking even angrier than I felt. When we got into the back of a waiting car, I noticed a man with glasses and a scholarly air sitting in the driver's seat. He kept glancing nervously between us in the rearview mirror, clearly sensing the tense atmosphere. I felt numb. Every single fight Elara and I ever had was because I got close to someone else. "How did you know where I was?" I asked flatly. Her gaze swept over me, cool and detached. "I have a tracking app on your phone." For a second, I thought she had to be some kind of psychopath, a literal stalker. But before I could explode, she spoke again, her voice low. "That year in middle school, when you were almost kidnapped… I've been terrified ever since. So every time you get a new phone, I install it." My anger deflated, replaced by a wave of warmth. I was about to say something to smooth things over when she delivered her next line like a command. "Don't see him again." The order, devoid of any consideration for my feelings, made me tremble with rage. I met her cold gaze with a defiant smile. "And what if I want to?" "I said, you are not to see him." "And I never agreed to that." She faltered, looking away as if she'd been struck. "Stella, you were always so good," she whispered, her voice cracking. "When did you stop listening to me?"
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