Love at the eyes

The year Daisy Jennings was brought back by our parents, we had both just turned 15.

That day, she was dressed in a plain and faded dress. Her hair looked dry and frizzy. She had a slender and petite figure, yet was blessed with a pair of big, bright eyes.

She seemed dejected, yet was quite beautiful. Her facial features strongly resembled those of my parents, who had always doted on me.

My gentle mother, with tear-stains still visible on her face, held her left hand. Meanwhile, my kind father, his face beaming with the joy of regaining something precious, held her right hand.

As I habitually ran downstairs to greet my parents, the sight of this harmonious family trio stung my eyes.

Awkwardly, I perched on the staircase, torn between retreating and pressing on, my future's ambiguity mirrored in this moment of indecision.

The frantic patter of footsteps jerked their focus squarely onto me.

"Clara, this is Daisy. She's just three days older than you, and from now on, she'll be your sister," my father said with a smile, gently nudging the girl beside him forward.

"Clara, Daisy has been through a lot these years. It wasn't easy for her to finally come back home. You two should get along well," My mother admonished me, her voice still laced with sobs.

I nodded reluctantly, wanting to turn and head upstairs, unwilling to be part of this emotional scene that felt unrelated to me.

"Clara, wait," a soft yet unfamiliar voice called out to me.

It was her, Daisy.

She let go of our parents' hands and ascended the stairs, approaching me step by step. Her gaze was pure and clear, fixed on me with an earnestness that shied away from nothing.

There was no resentment as if I'd usurped her place, nor a hint of the kind of triumphant challenge like a queen returning to the throne. All I could see was a tenderness I couldn't yet fathom.

She opened her arms and embraced me, a sudden gesture that made me shiver involuntarily.

"Clara, I am here now, and I'll always protect you," she said, her words as bewildering as her actions.

Despite her slender and slight frame, she possessed a strength I couldn't resist. She hugged me so tightly that I couldn't even summon the energy to push her away and call her names.

Her dry, frizzy strands brushed against my cheeks, and I could feel the warmth and flush spreading across my face.

"Seeing Daisy and Clara getting along so well, we can finally be at ease," our parents said with relief as they watched us embrace.

I didn't believe I could get along with her; her actions didn't win me over but made me dislike her even more.

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, pampered by my parents for 15 years, only to find out I wasn't their biological daughter. Their real daughter was someone else, and I was just a stranger's child, mistakenly taken home.

My biological parents were nowhere to be found, and my sister had been abandoned by them, only to be taken in and raised by a kind-hearted elderly couple from a rural village.