Starry Sky Watcher

I’ve been dead for five years.

All that time, my soul has trailed after my sister, Christine.

Today, she came home.

Elegantly, she held the arm of the man beside her—her current boyfriend, the man she’s about to marry.

I drifted behind them, watching Christine’s smile as a sharp ache twisted inside me.

Five years ago, I stole her fiancé.

And I, Audrey, became the most shameless woman in all the capital.

Even in death, that reputation clings to me—a stain I can’t scrub clean.

Now my bones are likely buried in some forgotten wilderness.

And my dear sister has already found new happiness.

I watched her, a cold smirk curling at the corner of my lips.

Little sister, have you really… forgotten?

***

The Jiang Family is old capital money—a dynasty bound by strict rules and obsessed with reputation.

And I, Audrey, am their greatest shame.

The daughter born to my father John’s mistress.

My mother, Amy, was a woman with little education and extraordinary beauty. The day she carried me to the gates of the Audrey mansion, Christine’s mother—the true Mrs Audrey—was so enraged she suffered a heart attack on the spot and died not long after.

So I’ve known since childhood that I am a sinner.

The Jiang Family didn’t throw me out. John needed to keep up appearances.

So I became Christine’s nominal older sister—a shadow raised in the main house, kept out of the light.

Christine was the moon. I was the mud in the gutter.

She was always the “perfect child” others were measured against: learning piano, studying ballet, attending the best schools, forever the center of attention.

I, on the other hand, inherited nothing but my mother’s overly striking face. I was good for nothing.

Everyone loved Christine. Everyone despised me.

Including Christine herself.

She never spoke to me. Her gaze always held distance, wariness.

I knew she hated me—hated how my mother and I destroyed her family.

Yet I was also the only person in the entire Jiang Family who dared to get close to her.

Because we were the same: both pitiful pawns our father saw as trophies and tools.

The way John looked at us held no affection—only appraisal.

***

The welcome banquet for Christine’s return was extravagantly grand.

Matthew rented out the entire top-floor restaurant. Guests mingled, glasses clinking.

I drifted in a corner, watching Christine in her silver evening gown—a flawless sculpture accepting everyone’s praise.

“Christine grows more impressive by the day. That poise—no wonder she’s an internationally-awarded pianist.”

“Mr Matthew is truly devoted to her. Just look at his eyes, practically glued to her.”

“It’s just a shame about that incident five years ago… Tsk. I heard that sister of hers, Audrey, was driven out long ago. Who knows where she’s slumming it now.”

The whispers weren’t loud, but they pierced my ears like needles.

Slumming it?

My spectral form trembled violently.

Yes. I was slumming it. In a dog pen in some wasteland, mixed in with a pack of strays. My bones were probably picked clean by them long ago.

Christine seemed to have heard something. Her hand, holding the wineglass, paused slightly. Her gaze flicked toward the whispers—cool as water, yet with a razor-sharp undercurrent.

Those people immediately fell silent.

Matthew moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nothing,” Christine said, withdrawing her gaze and offering him a gentle smile. “I was just thinking of someone unpleasant.”

Someone unpleasant.

So that’s all I was to her.

A hollow, wrenching pain radiated from where my heart should be. I could barely maintain my form.

I hated her for this air of detached serenity. I hated how she could so easily erase the past, while I remained trapped in these memories for eternity.