Mira competed with Ela in every possible way
who dressed better,
who spoke sweeter,
who earned more praise,
who seemed more "helpful."
But no matter what Mira did, Ela still carried something Mira could never mimic:
an innocent, soft smile that came from a place untouched by cruelty.
And that made Mira hate her even more.
The betrayal came quietly.
Ela discovered it slowly;
in whispers, in half-caught conversations, in looks exchanged across the room.
Her own mother had begun confiding in Mira…
telling her the things that were meant to stay within the family.
Secrets about Ela's cousins,
arguments between relatives,
childhood incidents that should have been spoken with tenderness…
not handed over to someone who twisted everything she touched.
And Mira would respond with poisoned sweetness.
"Oh my… how did you even survive among such family members?"
"You deserve so much better, Mom."
"You've suffered a lot with these people, haven't you?"
Mom.
That word cut deeper than any insult.
At first it had been "Aunty."
Then "Ma'am."
Then "Aunty-ji."
And suddenly_effortlessly;
"Mom."
Followed by
"Father."
as if she had been their daughter all along.
Every time Mira used those words, Ela felt something inside her shrink.
Like her place was being overwritten… rewritten…
carefully erased.
Meanwhile, Zius's torment only worsened.
It no longer required a reason.
He didn't have to spill water, or break something, or argue.
Existing was enough.
If he ate slowly:
"He's so lazy."
"He does nothing on time."
If he forgot a book:
"He never takes responsibility."
And Mira would whisper these complaints so convincingly that even Ela's parents began believing them.
Soon, humiliation became routine.
And the beatings…
they returned, quiet and hidden, whenever no one was around to see.
Every time something went wrong, Mira would sigh dramatically, clutching her arm or shrinking back like a wounded victim.
"He fought with me."
"He tried to hit me."
"He's always attacking me."
Lies.
All of it lies.
Zius, gentle-natured and soft-spoken, couldn't hurt a fly.
But Mira spun her stories with such precision that suspicion always fell on him.
Ela saw it.
She saw everything.
She saw Mira poisoning the house with her sweetness.
She saw her parents believing every word.
She saw Zius breaking slowly under accusations he never deserved.
And worst of all
Ela saw Mira watching her through all of it,
eyes gleaming with the satisfaction
of someone who knew exactly how deeply her actions were cutting.
Someone who wanted them to.