Growth and Counterattack

As the clock struck midnight, marking my 26th birthday, my heart fluttered with anticipation as I mustered the courage to ask the boy I had secretly admired if he would grace my birthday celebration with his presence.

In the next instant, my world tilted on its axis. My cousin, Charline Smith, walked into the room while holding the boy I had secretly admired. Her voice was dripping with mockery as she addressed me in front of our gathered relatives, "Madeline, why do you persist in texting my boyfriend?"

Ever since she invaded my home, stealing my cherished dreams and desires had become her favored pastime.

I murmured, "Was this the final act, my dear cousin? Were you prepared to receive my ultimate offering?"

Charline's parents were entangled in a tumultuous dance of love and hate and finally severed their ties when Charline was but a teenager.

Charline's father, a gambler with an insatiable appetite, squandered their family's fortune, leaving Charline to subsist on a meager allowance of less than twenty dollars a week.

Charline's mother remarried swiftly, birthing a son and immersing herself in her freshfound family, leaving Charline adrift.

During my freshman year of high school, my mother was so kind that she invited Charline into our home.

"Madeline, you and Charline were always close. Surely, you'll be delighted to have her by your side!"

Charline, with a warmth that seemed genuine, clasped my arm and cooed, "Sweet Madeline, lead me to our room, won't you?"

I numbly hoisted her luggage and shuffled towards the bedroom.

With her vivacious spirit and honeyed tongue, Charline cast a spell on our elders.

My own mother lamented my aloofness and scholarly obsession, often drawing unfavorable comparisons between Charline and me.

My father, drawn to Charline's assertiveness and bravery, contrasted her with my own timidity, a trait that left me quaking after even the most innocuous of nighttime walks.

Even my own brother would hurl his textbooks at me in frustration during our tutoring sessions.

He gleefully played games with Charline and exclaimed, "I don't acknowledge Madeline as my sister; Charline, you're my only sister that I recognize!"

My timid affections, so carefully guarded, were destined to be paraded before the world by Charline.

She had, time and again, strolled past me, her arm linked with those I held dear or harbored secret longings for.

When I was alone, she always pretended to be sorry.

"I'm sorry, Madeline. He was the one who pursued me relentlessly."

It dawned on me that from that fateful day, my home had ceased to be my own.

Since the age of sixteen, Charline had cast her shadow over my every step.

Today was my 26th birthday.

But I harbored no illusions of receiving any surprises from my family.

The birthday gathering was a mere pretext for my parents to convene our relatives for a round of playing cards and a communal feast.

I encountered a charming male colleague at work a while ago, a match orchestrated by a mutual friend.

I wanted to get to know him better, so I sent him a message, asking if he wanted to come to my birthday party.

I put away my phone, only to witness Charline, arm in arm with that male colleague, walk into the house.

"Happy birthday, Madeline!"

She drew nearer and waved her phone before me. "But Madeline, why do you persist in texting my boyfriend?"

At that moment, the room buzzed with the intrigue of our kin.

My parents were even peering from the kitchen. Their gazes were accusatory.

Yet, I was no longer the naive sixteenyearold girl who had wept in the bathroom because Charline circulated my love letter in the class.

I calmly purged my chat history with this male colleague.

"Is that so? A colleague had once tried to play matchmaker; I was hesitant.

"If you fancies him, then it's settled."

Charline froze and loosed her grip on the man's arm.

"I was merely kidding, yet you take it to heart and confront me with such vehemence."

At her words, my parents retreated to the kitchen for cooking.

The relatives turned their attention elsewhere.

"If you always appreciate those I abandon, then you have no right to be choosy, do you?"

I clutched the handful of orange peels that lay in my palm and flung them into Charline's hand.

Without a word, I rose and walked away.

"I was just teasing. Madeline, you wouldn't take it to heart, would you?"

Charline took my jest seriously, embellishing the tale and recounting it to my parents with dramatic flair.

As the last of the relatives departed, the stage was set for a trial, where I was the accused.

At this juncture, Charline, of course, distanced herself, descending the stairs to bid farewell to her boyfriend, leaving me to face the inquisition alone.

"You're an adult now; can't you take a joke within the family?

"Everyone's here to celebrate your birthday, yet you seclude yourself in your room, refusing to join the festivities.

"Look at how considerate Charline is; she's been outside, dutifully entertaining our guests."

A memory surfaced unbidden. A month ago, it was Charline's birthday.

She had coyly dissuaded my parents from inviting over the relatives, preferring a private celebration with just the family.

"I just want to spend my birthday alone with you," she had cooed.

Thus, my family, including my parents and my brother, embarked on a trip with Charline. They never once inquired if I wished to join.

Yesterday, I proposed a private birthday celebration with just the family. However, my mother rebuked me for growing increasingly distant from our kin as the years passed.

"You're still in your twenties. How can we rely on you in the future if you shun family gatherings?"

This was the injustice of favoritism.

I couldn't muster the energy to argue, so I nodded a few times, feigning attentiveness.

Finally, my mother, her gaze briefly darting towards the door, voiced her concern while Charline was still absent.

"You probably don't like Charline's boyfriend, do you? If you can't find a boyfriend, we might introduce one to you. Charline had a tough life; don't bully her.

"How I wish Charline were my own daughter," she sighed.

I had grown numb to it.

The door swung open. My mother emerged with a fruit platter in hand, her face lighting up at Charline's return.

"Charline, you're back; I've prepared fresh fruits for you."

I glanced at the small piece of apple on the fork in my hand, resigned to my role as an afterthought, and thought, "Fine, I'll just eat it."

Charline's room adjoined mine, yet she feigned that her relationship with me was anything but sisterly. She relished recounting her romantic escapades to me before bed.

"Charline, every time you start dating someone new, you feel the need to give me a playbyplay," I mused aloud.

After all, each boy was somehow connected to me.

It was reminiscent of our school days when I approached a male top student for help, only to have Charline intervene.

And whenever I shifted my focus, she was quicker than I to move on, bidding farewell to the old and embracing the new.

"I can't help it, Madeline. I find the things I steal more intriguing," she confessed. "Especially when they once belonged to you."

"Then you'd better have the stamina to keep stealing," I replied.

The following morning, as I prepared for work, Charline lay abed because of her unemployment.

"Mom, didn't you ask me to help find a job for Charline?" I inquired.

"I secured a receptionist position at a company; the pay was modest, but the workload was light. I had to plead for ages before they agreed," I recounted.

"Don't mention it to her; I fear it would bruise her pride," I added.

My mother embraced me warmly for the first time. "Madeline, you've truly matured."

I stood stiffly, and my hands were awkwardly suspended in the air. A forced smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

"Charline, your gift is on its way," I thought to myself.

[She's already started working.]

My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a message from my best friend, Selina Morris.

[Understood. Please take good care of her.] I replied.

With my intervention a few days prior, Charline's job had become a breeze compared to her colleagues.

She reveled in the notion that she could earn a paycheck without breaking a sweat.

"Thank you for helping me find a job."

Charline helped pour water for my mother with affection. I continued to eat in silence and resolutely turned my focus elsewhere.

As evening descended, Charline leaned against the wall of my room on time.

"Sometimes, opportunities matter more than hard work.

"Some people toil endlessly, studying relentlessly to get into college and working overtime day in and day out, yet their salary remains paltry. Unlike me, all I need to do is dress up and apply my makeup each day to breeze through work.

"Why doesn't your mother introduce such a wonderful job to you? Right. Because your mother loves me more," Charline concluded.

As an office worker, my leaders kept me revising the plans well into the night, which was annoying.

But it was less infuriating than a constant belittling from someone who knew nothing of the struggle.

"Charline, don't you think you're being childish?

"After all these years, you still haven't grasped that you can only hold onto what you earn yourself."

Of course, Charline wasn't interested in hearing my truth. She merely believed I was green with envy over her good fortune.

With a derisive snort, she slammed the door and stormed out.

My parents were out for a stroll, their absence explaining the sudden surge of her ire.

Charline's leisurely job, which had begun so effortlessly, gradually piled on more responsibilities from the second week.

She was now in charge of handling express deliveries, ordering meals and afternoon tea for the company, and fielding calls for various document consultations.

For others, these tasks might not have been daunting, but for Charline, who was accustomed to a parasitic lifestyle, even the slightest exertion was unbearable.

"I had everything under control. But when they brought the food to the office, it felt like my hands were about to break.

"They even kept finding faults, either criticizing the store I chose or mixing up their orders.

"Are they here to work or to play the lady?"

I raised an eyebrow.

Indeed, the role suited Charline perfectly.

Naturally, my mother couldn't bear to hear Charline's grievances.

After dinner, my mother pulled me into the room.

"You also heard what Charline just said.

"Madeline, tell your friend to take care of Charline."

I was accustomed to this preferential treatment, yet a pang of sadness lingered.

"Mom, do you remember when I first started working? I made a mistake with some data and got scolded by my boss.

"I came home in tears, and you said I was too delicate, unable to endure even the smallest hardship. You compared it to your past, when you were truly suffering and exhausted."

I pried open my mother's fingers, which had been gripping my shoulders, one by one.

"I send this same message to your precious Charline," I stated flatly.

My mother was seething with anger and raised her hand to slap me, but her hand hovered in the air because my calm demeanor held her back.

Of course, the outcome was as expected. Charline emerged from my mother's room. Her eyes were red with indignation, and she glared at me.

In my dreams that night, I revisited the second year when Charline had moved into our house.

During a monthly exam at my high school, I had topped the class while she was caught cheating.

When my parents were called in, my mother was reprimanded by the teacher so harshly that her head was hanging low in shame. Yet, upon learning that it was my mother, the teacher had casually remarked that I was still a good student, a promising seedling.

That day, my mother had been exceptionally kind, taking me to the mall for the first time to buy new clothes. Charline, meanwhile, was at home, reflecting on her mistakes.

But upon returning and entering my room, I found that all the dolls on my bookshelf had been viciously dismembered, their remains strewn across the floor.

The next day, Charline unearthed the love letter I had hidden deep within my drawer. She circulated it throughout the class, exposing not only my secret crush but also the fragile, unspoken dreams of my adolescence that I had penned down in my diary.

The outcome, as expected, was a torrent of scolding from my parents and teachers, a cascade of laughter from my classmates for my perceived hubris, and a cold shoulder from those I held dear.

I can still recall the vivid memory of that day when Charline stood beside my desk. "Madeline Cooper, do you realize how wrong you are?"

I mustered a weak smile in response, but my fingers tightened around the doll in my hand, slicing it into even smaller fragments.

"You gifted this to me on my tenth birthday. Are you pleased now?"

Awaking from the dream, I found that Charline had already departed for work.

"Charline is such a wonderful child. Despite her complaints yesterday, she's full of vigor and arrived early at the company today," my mother remarked with pride.

"Is that so?" I replied.

I swallowed the sandwich in one gulp, so my words were muffled by the food. "That's good."

I must confess that a part of me was relieved that she hadn't resigned, fearing that all my meticulous planning would have been for naught.

Today, I was scheduled to visit Charline's company to discuss a potential collaboration. Prior to leaving, I took extra care with my appearance, applying a makeup regimen rumored to be irresistible to men.

Even my attire deviated from my usual rigid workwear, opting instead for a light apricot short skirt suit that hinted at a softer, more approachable side.

"Madeline, are you heading out on a blind date after work?" my colleagues teased with playful curiosity.

"Madeline, you look absolutely stunning today!"

I paused by their workstations, chuckling at their chatter.

"Gather your materials and let's go; today's the big day."

Standing at the threshold of Charline's company, I breathed a sigh of relief. My spirits were lifted.

A thrilling spectacle would unfold.