By the time I finished scrubbing through the mountain of Ashley's laundry, my fingers were raw and my back ached. I tossed the last wet blouse over the line, muttering under my breath. She'd waltz home later, acting like I didn't exist, while I was here breaking my bones cleaning her filth.
It was past seven, and she still wasn't home. I glanced at the clock, frowning. Should I even care? Maybe. She was my twin, after all at least that's what everyone kept saying. But sometimes I wondered if we were really cut from the same cloth.
I shook the thought away and headed to the kitchen, where the smell of spices wrapped around me like a hug.
"What's for dinner?" I asked, leaning against the counter.
"Pasta, dear," Lizzy replied, stirring the pot with her usual grace.
My stomach grumbled, but I had something else on my mind. "Aunty, I want to learn how to cook everything you know. Nigerian, international, all of it. You're like... an international chef, and I love your cooking."
She gave me a fond smile, but her answer was the same as always. "Adira, you know I can't teach you unless your parents give permission."
I groaned. "There you go again. I'm fifteen, nearly sixteen! I don't need permission to boil water."
Her laugh was soft, indulgent. "Fine. I'll ask your mom. Deal?"
"Deal."
Before I could reply, the familiar sound of Dad's car pulling into the driveway made my heart jump. I dropped the spoon I'd been holding and rushed out, just like I always did.
"Daddy!" I flung myself at him before he could even close the car door.
He chuckled, wrapping his arms around me. "Adira, my sunshine. How was school?"
"Good," I said quickly. His warmth always made me forget the bitterness that filled the rest of this house.
For a moment, I felt seen. Cherished.
Later that night, after finishing my assignments, I curled up in bed, my eyelids heavy. Just as I was about to drift off, a knock rattled my door.
"Who is it?"
The door creaked open. Of course. Ashley.
She strolled in, tossing a notebook onto my bed like it was garbage. "I need you to do my assignment."
I stared at her, my chest tightening. "Ashley, I've got my own work—"
"Don't start," she snapped, folding her arms. "You know what happens if you refuse."
Her eyes gleamed with that cruel satisfaction I'd come to dread. She was right if I didn't do it, she'd find a way to get me into trouble with Mum. And Mum never questioned her side of the story.
I picked up the notebook with a heavy sigh, already knowing I'd give in. My dreams of sleep slipped away as Ashley smirked and walked out, leaving me with her mess once again.