Upstairs, in her modest room tucked at the far end of the Wilson mansion's second floor, Maya sat at her desk sketching absentmindedly on a scrap of paper. Her pencil scratched quietly across the surface, forming swirls and shapes that didn't really mean anything. She wasn't thinking of art her mind was elsewhere, heavy with thoughts she couldn't quite put into words.
Across from her, on a cushioned chair by the window, sat Nanny Emily. The elderly woman had been part of the Wilson household for decades. She had raised both girls with tender patience, often filling the void when Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were too busy with business or social obligations. Her wrinkled hands worked steadily at a ball of yarn, knitting a woolen scarf, the click of her needles rhythmic and comforting.
But though her hands moved, her eyes warm, sharp, and watchful rested often on Maya. She had known the girl since infancy, and over the years, she had learned to read Maya's silences as clearly as other people's words.
"You've been restless all morning, child," Emily said finally, her voice soft but probing. "Your hands are busy, but your spirit isn't settled. Is something troubling you?"
Maya paused, setting her pencil down with a sigh. She fiddled with the edge of the paper, not meeting Emily's gaze. "I just… heard something," she admitted. "About Ann and Ethan Carter. Father's planning their marriage, isn't he?"
Emily's needles slowed, her expression softening. "Yes, I heard about it too," she said, nodding. "The Wilsons and the Carters joining families it will be quite the arrangement. This marriage alliance will secure a future not only for Ann but for the family business."
Maya turned in her chair, her brows knitted. "But it feels so sudden. I mean, yesterday everything was normal, and today, Ann is about to be engaged to one of the wealthiest heirs in the city."
Emily reached across, laying a wrinkled but steady hand over Maya's. Her grip was warm, grounding. "Sudden, yes. But these things happen quickly among the powerful. Deals are made, papers are signed, and lives are promised before the ink even dries. It may not feel fair, but it is the way of the world they belong to."
Maya gave a small, hesitant smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She looked out the window, where the garden glowed in the morning light, and wondered what world did she belong to?
---
In the grand sitting room below, tension was already brewing. Mr. Wilson paced back and forth across the polished wooden floor, his polished shoes echoing with each step. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed tightly together. He was a man used to being in control, yet today, his composure seemed on the edge of breaking.
On the velvet sofa sat Mrs. Wilson, her posture stiff and elegant as always, though her fingers clutched her teacup so tightly it seemed it might crack. The porcelain trembled faintly with each nervous twitch.
When Ann entered, she carried herself with confidence. Dressed in a pale blue gown that accentuated her poise, she was radiant, certain that the day would bring her closer to what she believed she deserved. Her smile lit up her face as she approached.
"You called for me, Father?" she asked lightly, her voice bright with expectation.
"Yes, Ann. Sit down," Mr. Wilson said. His tone was sharp, unusual enough to give her pause.
Ann frowned slightly but obeyed, lowering herself onto the opposite sofa. She crossed her legs gracefully and folded her hands in her lap, waiting. "What's the matter? Is this about the wedding? Has Ethan set a date?"
Mr. Wilson's throat tightened. He exchanged a loaded glance with his wife, then faced his daughter. His voice, though firm, carried a heavy reluctance.
"Ann… Ethan has decided not to marry you."
The words shattered like glass in the air.
For a moment, Ann froze, her lips parting but no sound escaping. She stared at her father as though he had struck her across the face. Then her voice broke out, sharp and trembling. "What what did you just say?"
"He has chosen Maya instead," Mr. Wilson continued grimly. "Mr. Carter insists that this still fulfills the contract. The marriage must go forward, but it will not be you standing beside Ethan it will be your sister."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Ann's face drained of color before flushing with fury.
"Maya?!" she shrieked, her voice piercing the room. "That insignificant little girl? You're telling me Ethan prefers her over me?"
Mrs. Wilson leapt to her feet, reaching for her daughter. "Darling, please listen to reason...."
"Don't you dare!" Ann's eyes filled with tears of rage as she shook her mother's hand off. "All my life, I've prepared for this! I've been perfect, I've been polished, I've been the one everyone admired! And now you want me to believe that she that shadow gets to take what was mine?"
Her voice cracked, rising higher and higher. In her fury, she swept her arm across the side table, sending a vase crashing to the ground in a violent explosion of glass.
"Ann, calm down!" her father barked.
But she wasn't listening. She turned sharply, her movements frantic and unsteady. In her blind anger, her heel snagged on the carpet. She stumbled, falling hard straight into the shattered glass on the floor.
A piercing scream ripped from her throat. "Ahhh!"
Mrs. Wilson shrieked, rushing forward as blood began to gush from Ann's leg, staining her pale gown crimson.
"Ann! My baby!"
"Call the doctor! Prepare the car!" Mr. Wilson thundered, panic breaking through his stern facade.
Servants scrambled in all directions as chaos erupted. The grand mansion, so often filled with cold control, now echoed with terror.
---
The drive to the hospital was frantic. Ann's muffled cries filled the back seat as her mother clutched her hand, whispering frantic reassurances. Mr. Wilson barked orders at the driver, his face rigid with barely contained fear.
Within minutes, Ann was wheeled into the emergency ward. Doctors swarmed around her, their voices clipped and urgent.
A surgeon emerged not long after, his gloves already stained red. His expression was grave. "She has lost a dangerous amount of blood," he announced. "Without an immediate transfusion, we cannot stabilize her."
"Yes," Mr. Wilson said quickly, desperation sharpening his tone. "Her sister, Maya. Call her in. She's the one."
The doctor nodded. "Bring her at once. She's been a suitable donor before, hasn't she?"
---
Maya arrived at the hospital soon after, her footsteps quick and uneven against the cold white tiles. Her face was pale, eyes wide with worry. Emily hurried beside her, trying to keep pace.
"What happened?" Maya gasped, her voice shaking.
The doctor stepped forward, wasting no time. "Your sister is critical. She needs blood immediately. You've donated for her before, haven't you?"
Maya froze. The memories came rushing back hospital rooms, the sharp sting of needles, the cold fatigue afterward. Since childhood, she had been pulled into these moments, always giving, always sacrificing, while Ann never even knew.
Her hands trembled. "Yes," she whispered. "I've done it before."
"Good," the doctor said firmly. "We'll need you again. You're the closest match she has."
Maya's chest tightened. Her eyes flicked toward the emergency doors where Ann lay unconscious. Despite everything despite Ann's cruelty, the way she had always looked down on her, the way she treated her as though she were less than human here Maya was again, the only one who could save her.
Her body screamed in protest, fear gnawed at her heart. But slowly, she nodded. "Alright. I'll do it."
---
Minutes later, Maya lay on the hospital bed. The antiseptic smell stung her nose as the nurse swabbed her arm. She winced as the needle slid in, and the warm pull of blood leaving her body made her chest tighten.
Through the glass window, she saw Ann lying unconscious, pale and fragile, her beauty muted by weakness. The sight drew tears to Maya's eyes.
Maya's breath quickened. She clenched her fists, fighting against the dizziness clouding her vision. She despised this feeling the endless giving, the exhaustion, the sense that she was pouring her very life into someone who would never acknowledge it.
But she didn't stop.
The doctor checked the levels, then gave a nod. "It's enough. She's stabilizing."
The needle was removed, and Maya sagged against the pillow, drained and trembling. Relief flooded her body, though she felt as though she might faint at any second.
The doctor turned to Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. "Your daughter owes her life once again to her sister."
Mrs. Wilson pressed a trembling hand to her lips, her eyes filling with tears. Mr. Wilson only nodded, his jaw tight, his gaze unreadable.
And as Maya drifted into a light, dizzy sleep, one thought echoed in her heart: Why must it always be me? Why am I the one who must give everything, while she receives it all?