Dream Girl Over Sister

"Whatever Mitchell wants to do with the house is entirely up to him. The attic is fine. I can stay there," I lowered my head and spoke softly, my voice barely audible.

Mitchell's expression was hard to read. He didn't seem pleased.

Seeing him like this, I felt uneasy and questioned myself. I had already stepped aside in every possible way for the person he held dearest in his heart. Why was he still dissatisfied?

The worst part came during dinner.

The table was covered with an array of lavish dishes.

Mitchell carefully served food to Maggie, who beamed with joy.

I kept my head down, silently eating the plain spaghetti in front of me.

"Nora, why aren't you eating anything else?"

Maggie's sweet voice rang out as she reached over to place a piece of mutton on my plate.

I didn't eat it, silently pushing it to the side.

"Nora, do you have a problem with me? You don't even eat the food I gave you."

Her expression turned hurt, and Mitchell's face immediately darkened.

"Nora! Eat it. Who do you think you're trying to snub here?"

I looked up, a heavy weight pressing against my chest.

"I can't eat this," I said quietly.

I was allergic to many foods. Back at home, our dining table had never featured dishes I couldn't eat. But now, almost everything on this table was something I couldn't touch.

Mitchell had forgotten.

-

"What do you mean you can't eat it? Maggie's trying to build a good relationship with you. Don't be so ungrateful. Eat the lamb."

"It's fine. It's my fault. The kitchen made everything I like today. It's Nora's first day back, so it's understandable if she's unhappy. Nora, tell the kitchen what you'd prefer, and they'll make it for you."

Maggie's eyes glinted with deliberate provocation.

But none of this angered me anymore.

"She's not that fragile. Just because you like it doesn't mean she can't eat it. Nora, stop making things difficult for everyone. Be more considerate."

Mitchell's face was grim, his brows tightly furrowed—an unmistakable sign that he was about to lose his temper.

Once again, he left me no room to explain, immediately assuming I was at fault.

At the boarding school, they taught us: I had to obey the person who fed me and provided for me.

I mustn't make Mitchell angry. If he got upset, it would be my fault.

"Alright, I'll eat it."

I lowered my head and forced myself to eat, taking large bites, desperate to avoid escalating the conflict.

As he saw me eating, his furrowed brow finally relaxed.

Suppressing the nausea churning inside me, I ate whatever they served, lamb included.

But soon, my neck began to itch, followed by an unbearable tingling all over my body. My throat felt constricted, as if someone were choking me.

My trembling hands could no longer hold the utensils. I collapsed onto the floor.

"Oh, my!"

Maggie shrieked and threw herself into Mitchell's arms. His first instinct was to hold her close.

It wasn't until I struggled on the floor, barely managing to retrieve my phone to dial 911, that he finally reacted.

"What's wrong with you?"

When he saw the red welts spreading across my skin, genuine panic flickered in his eyes.

"You're having an allergic reaction! You're allergic to lamb! How could I have forgetten?"

-

By the time I was rushed to the hospital, I could barely breathe.

Thankfully, I made it just in time and narrowly escaped death.

As I lay in the hospital bed, Mitchell sat nearby, fully focused on comforting the woman crying in his arms.

"This is all my fault. If I hadn't served her that food, she wouldn't have eaten it and gotten sick."

"Don't cry. This isn't your fault. She's just stupid—knowing she's allergic and still eating it."

Hah, so it was my fault.

"You're awake, Nora."

Maggie turned, her tear-streaked face lighting up with feigned surprise and concern as she approached me.

Mitchell, however, spoke first, "Why didn't you say you were allergic? Why did you eat it anyway?"

"I told you I couldn't eat it. But if I didn't, you would've been angry," I said, my voice trembling.

Mitchell's expression only darkened further.

"Was this intentional? Are you trying to punish me? To make me feel guilty?"

Had I insisted on eating it? Mitchell's memory was failing him.

Frightened, I shook my head, unsure what I had done wrong but knowing I had to admit fault.

"It's my fault, Mitchell, but I didn't do it intentionally. Please, don't be mad."

"You little…"

He stared at me, drawing in a sharp breath, before pulling Maggie along and leaving in a huff. He didn't come to see me again.

-

Two days later, a nurse came to ask me about the medical bill.

Uneasy, I opened my phone to check the balance, only to find it down to a single digit.

"Could I call someone from home?" I asked hesitantly.

The nurse raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Go ahead."

Mitchell didn't answer my calls. I tried again and again, but he remained unreachable. The nurse grew impatient.

"What about the bill?" she pressed.

"I'll pay it," I replied, flushing with embarrassment under her skeptical gaze.

Another day passed with no word from Mitchell. The nurse returned, her tone sharper.

"You're not planning to skip out on paying, are you? You're an adult. Can't you get in touch with anyone? Do you want me to call the police?"

"I-I…" I stammered, searching for words. "I can leave something as collateral and bring the money later to settle the bill."

The necklace around my neck was my mother's final gift to me. Left to me during her last moments, it had been my anchor through countless lonely nights at the boarding school.

It was also my only valuable possession.

The hospital reluctantly accepted the necklace, allowing me to leave.

"Is it this way?"

For some reason, my memory seemed to falter. I couldn't recognize familiar streets.

With help from the police, I stumbled my way home, exhausted and disoriented.

By nightfall, I finally reached the house. The wind bit into me as I stood shivering outside, only to find that the lock no longer recognized my fingerprints.

I couldn't get in. Through the window, I could hear them laughing.

"Do you like your gift?"

"This ring is beautiful. A pink diamond—how expensive is it?"

"I saw it at an auction and thought you'd love it. The cost doesn't matter. As long as it makes you happy."

The tenderness in Mitchell's gaze as he looked at her was undeniable.

Held in his arms, Maggie smiled radiantly, brimming with happiness.

For a moment, I was dazed.

Every year on my birthday, Mitchell would prepare a gift for me well in advance, putting so much thought into it.

Back then, he had looked at me with that same tenderness.

I knocked hard on the door, again and again. Eventually, Mitchell came to open it.

"What are you doing here?" He seemed surprised. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming back?"