A Hand-Me-Down Exposed Mom's Favoritism

When I got home, the house was empty.

I rushed into Brielle's room. Her coat was hanging on the rack, still tucked inside its dust bag.

I examined it the way the sales associate had taught me. The lettering on the inner label was raised. The fabric felt soft and smooth, with a faint scent of cashmere. All the labels were still attached, including the authenticity tag from the store.

I realized that Brielle's coat was brand new and genuine, with a style slightly different from mine.

I stood frozen, my mind going blank.

Why? Why did Brielle get the latest authentic coat while mine was a secondhand counterfeit?

Could Mom have been scammed only on my coat? Was it really just a coincidence?

Just as my thoughts began to spiral, I heard the front door open. Mom and Brielle walked in, chatting and laughing, their arms loaded with shopping bags.

Noticing the coat in my hands, Brielle walked over with a smile and hooked her arm through mine. "Aria, Mom filled me in about your coat," she said.

"She works so hard for every dollar. She scrimped and saved for a long time just to get us matching coats. Even if someone else tried yours on, it'll be fine once it's washed. It's the holiday season. Let's not blow this out of proportion. Stop putting Mom through more trouble."

For some reason, Brielle's words sent a surge of irritation through me. She made it sound like I was being difficult.

Before I could say anything, Mom popped a candied chestnut into my mouth and said, "Exactly. If those hairs really bother you so much, I can drop it off at the dry cleaner's. Don't be upset over something so small. I'll be more careful next time."

As Mom comforted me with such tenderness, I suddenly felt like a terrible person.

How could I ever suspect her? She probably just didn't know any better, and someone had slipped a knockoff in with the real merchandise without her realizing it.

"It's fine, Mom," I said. "Don't worry about the dry cleaner's. I'll handle it myself."

I swallowed the chestnut and forced the doubt churning inside me back down. Maybe it really was just a coincidence.

…

That night, Mom asked me to help free up some space on her phone. She said it had been lagging so badly that she couldn't save any new photos.

I took her phone and opened the gallery, planning to delete the blurry landscape photos.

As I scrolled through, I saw many selfies from Mom's trips, hundreds of them featuring Brielle. There were even destinations I didn't know they'd visited. Why had they traveled together without me?

Just as I was about to set the phone down, a message from a group chat popped up. Before I knew it, I had tapped on it.

It was an ordinary bargain-hunting group chat. I scrolled back and stopped on a series of voice messages Mom had sent three days earlier.

"Oh wow, today is my lucky day! I found a coat in a recycling bin in the villa district!

"It's a bit dirty and smells off, but it looks like a designer piece. Once I steam it at home, it'll be perfect for my younger daughter."

Immediately after, someone in the group chimed in. "I know that coat. It came from the belongings of the coal mogul's mother that were cleared out after she passed away. I didn't even dare touch it.

"A dead person wore that. Who knows what kind of germs are on it? How could you let your daughter wear that?"

Mom replied, "It's fine! My younger daughter is as tough as nails. Even when I gave her expired milk before, she was perfectly okay.

"The money I saved can go toward that Max Mara coat for my oldest daughter. She needs to look good at her job, so she can't wear something cheap.

"Besides, Aria is easy to trick. She believes whatever I tell her."