As Michelle walked down the grand staircase, the sound of her lonely footsteps echoed through the silent hallway, a stark contrast to the warm laughter and cheerful chatter that already filled the dining room. Her family—consisting of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, her sister, Flora, and her brother, Ray—were all seated at the table, their faces glowing with joy, celebrating some recent success.
Michelle's eyes scanned the lively room, her gaze lingering on the familiar faces, but her heart felt hollow, stuck in a different, darker world.
"Why are you coming down now?" Mr. Anderson asked, his voice sharp and tinged with annoyance as he looked up from his plate. His pleasant mood evaporated instantly upon seeing her. "What were you doing upstairs?"
Michelle hesitated, her eyes darting around the table, before she finally found her voice. "I... I slept late," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Anderson's expression turned openly skeptical, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glared at her. "You slept late?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. "There's nothing you can do with your life. All you do is read, read, and eat my food. Look at your sister—can't you be like her? Or can't you be like your brother? Why are you so useless?"
The harsh words cut deep, and Michelle felt a familiar, searing ache in her chest.
Flora, sensing the escalating tension, quickly intervened, her voice soft and soothing. "Dad, I think you should calm down. Michelle has her own life. She can't always be like me or Ray." Ray, Michelle's brother, offered a small, warm smile of encouragement and beckoned her to come and sit down.
Just as Michelle was about to take her designated seat, the doorbell chimed, and one of the maids got up to answer it. A moment later, Greyson strolled into the dining room, a large bouquet of vibrant roses in his hand and a bright, charming smile plastered across his face.
"Flora, I heard about the contract you signed," he said, his eyes shining with admiration as he presented the flowers to her sister.
Michelle's heart plummeted to her stomach as she watched the sickeningly sweet scene unfold. She felt like she was trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up. Greyson, her ex-boyfriend , was now openly fawning over her sister, and her family seemed to be lapping it all up like hungry, oblivious dogs.
She couldn't take it anymore. The atmosphere was suffocating. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, and mumbled something about not being hungry.
As she turned to leave, Greyson's eyes met hers across the room. For a brief moment, Michelle thought she saw a flicker of something there—perhaps guilt or regret—but it was quickly extinguished, replaced by a look of cold indifference. Michelle didn't care what he felt; she just wanted to get out of there, away from the pain and the blatant humiliation.
She rushed upstairs, hot tears streaming down her face as she collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow. Why did it always have to be like this? Why couldn't she just be good enough for anyone? The questions swirled in her head, taunting her, mocking her insecurity.
As she lay there, the tears eventually subsided, replaced by a cold resolve. Michelle realized that she needed to take control of her life. She needed to find a way to earn money, to prove to herself—and everyone else—that she was worth something.
She sat up, wiping away the last of her tears with determined force, and opened her laptop. She began to browse through online job listings, her heart filled with a renewed sense of purpose and determination.