Three Years Stolen — Basement Prison

“Your sister is timid. What if you scared her badly?”

“On your very first day back, you’re already bullying her? Apologize to your sister right now.”

I looked at my biological parents—whom I hadn’t seen in three years—and they felt almost unrecognizable to me.

“I won’t apologize. I didn’t bully her.”

My voice was firm. Seeing me refuse, my father grew furious.

“How dare you talk back the moment you return?”

“Enough, enough, it’s just a misunderstanding.”

My mother stepped in between us like a peacemaker.

I thought for a moment she was about to defend me, but instead, she reached for the silver bracelet in my hand, trying to take it away.

I clenched my fist tightly.

“This is mine.” My voice came out hoarse.

Her expression instantly darkened.

“Sophia, you were never such a petty child before. Sophie is a guest, and also your sister. Can’t you let her have a little? Do you have to cause chaos in this house to feel satisfied?”

Seeing that I didn’t yield, she completely lost patience.

“If you’re going to be this unreasonable, then you don’t deserve to wear this bracelet.”

She grabbed my wrist and pried open my fingers one by one, forcing the bracelet out of my hand.

The same bracelet she had given me at my coming-of-age ceremony now sat on Sophie’s wrist.

“Good girl, it looks perfect on Sophie,” my mother said with doting affection.

And as if that weren’t enough, she added,

“Your sister is just teasing you. From now on, whatever you see at home can be yours too. An older sister should always give way to her younger one.”

“Thank you, Mom.” Sophie’s voice was syrupy sweet.

Mom?

I looked at my mother, waiting for some kind of explanation.

But she ignored me completely, turning instead to kiss Sophie on the head.

“My sweet daughter.”

I was assigned to the guest room—because my old bedroom now belonged to Sophie.

“You’ll just have to make do here tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll free up another room for you.”

“What about my room?” I asked.

My mother’s tone was impatient.

“Your sister has gotten used to living there. As her elder, can’t you be more understanding?”

The plain white walls of the guest room reflected back my numb expression.

I didn’t sleep a single minute that night.

The next morning, I opened my door and went straight to my old bedroom—now Sophie’s room.

The door wasn’t locked. I pushed it open.

There she was, sitting at my vanity, using my expensive skincare products, with the pearl necklace my mother had once given me draped around her neck.

She didn’t look the least bit surprised. In fact, it was as if she had been waiting for me, a provocative smile tugging at her lips.

“Is there something you need, sister?”

“What do you really want?” My voice was flat, betraying no emotion.

“What do I want?” She lazily capped the serum bottle in her hand.

“Don’t you understand?”

She turned toward me, feigning confusion.

“After all this time, you still don’t see what I’m after?”

“I want everything you have—your room, your clothes, your parents, even your identity.”

She rose to her feet and stepped closer, chin tilted upward though she was half a head shorter, as if she were looking down on me.

“Really, you should be thanking me. While you were away all these years, I was the one keeping Uncle and Aunt happy. By now, they already see me as their real daughter.”

She paused, licking her lips.

“And you? A daughter who’s always abroad, who never cares about her family? To them, you’ve long since stopped being their child.”

Uncaring? Unfilial?

Hearing those words, I couldn’t help but find it laughable.