Yor Regret is Too Late!

11

"Asher... I'm scared. Grandfather... Grandfather looked as if he were peeling back my skin with his gaze earlier. I felt like a thief being interrogated."

Aileen’s voice cracked in the silence of the dimly lit hallway, creating an echo that would wrench the heart of anyone who heard it. Her body trembled violently, her cold hands clutching the sleeve of Asher’s shirt as though she had just escaped the jaws of death. Beneath the faint, yellowish glow of the wall sconce, Aileen looked utterly fragile—a single tear fell at the perfect moment, sliding slowly down her pale cheek, delivering a flawless dramatic impression.

Asher didn't answer with words, but his sharp jawline hardened until the veins in his neck bulged. He wrapped his strong arm around Aileen’s shoulders, pulling the girl into his possessive, protective embrace. His gaze, which had been warm while looking at Aileen, instantly turned into a sharp, gleaming blade of pure rage the moment it pierced through me.

I stood three steps in front of them, completely paralyzed, with fingers still red and shriveled from the harsh dish soap. My shabby house clothes felt increasingly suffocating as I tried to draw a breath.

"I was only doing what Mama told me to do, Asher. I didn't mean to ruin the atmosphere..." my voice sounded hoarse, barely a whisper swallowed by the silence.

"Shut your mouth, Aria!" Asher barked. His voice was low, heavy, and filled with a painful venom that easily tore away the last shred of my courage.

He took a single step forward, still cradling Aileen protectively, until his handsome face was mere centimeters away from mine. I could smell the rich masculine scent of his perfume—a cold blend of sandalwood and citrus. The fragrance that, ten years ago, always made me feel safe; the fragrance that used to be home to me. But now, that scent felt like a poison burning through my lungs.

"Why can't you just let her be happy for one single day? Has this world not hurt you enough that you feel the need to infect your own sister with your misery?" Asher glared at me with unadulterated hatred radiating from his dark eagle eyes. "Are you really that envious of your twin having a future? Is your heart so full of malice that you can't stand to see Aileen valued, while you yourself know that you are nothing but trash?"

Those words struck my chest harder than any physical slap I had ever received from my father. Trash. The boy who once wept beneath the mango tree while promising to protect me forever was now calling me trash, all to defend the woman who had just robbed my masterpiece, my twin identity, and my entire past.

"Trash?" my voice shook violently, tears beginning to pool behind my thick glasses. I looked up, staring directly into the eyes that no longer recognized me. "You don't know anything, Asher. You only see what she wants you to see. You are blinded by those fake tears! You don't realize that the person you are holding is a thief pretending to be a victim!"

"ENOUGH!" Asher tightened his grip on Aileen’s shoulder even further, as if terrified my words would taint the girl's purity. "Don't you dare compare yourself to Aileen ever again. She worked tirelessly for that design, she sewed it until her fingers bled, she has a talent that you will never possess. She has a brilliant future ahead of her. And you? You're just an ungrateful stain on this family. You're nothing but a parasite who feels entitled to someone else's success."

Behind Asher’s shoulder, I could see Aileen sobbing even harder, burying her face into the young man's broad chest. However, behind her heartbreaking performance, I briefly caught a sharp, cold glint in her eyes. Aileen was smiling in the dark. She was thoroughly enjoying my destruction.

"That's enough, Asher... don't yell at Aria anymore," Aileen whispered in a voice crafted to sound so incredibly fragile, her words muffled against Asher’s shirt. "Maybe it's my fault for expecting too much from her. Maybe I'm the one in the wrong for hoping she could be proud of my achievement."

"No, Ai. You aren't wrong at all," Asher whispered softly into Aileen’s ear, the contrast painfully stark against the harsh tone he had used on me just moments ago. He turned his eyes back to me with a gaze of pure, unbridled disgust. "Don't you ever show up in front of Grandfather with your pathetic antics again. Don't hide behind drapes or try to whisper lies. If you ruin Aileen’s path even once, I will personally ensure you leave this house empty-handed. I am not playing around, Aria."

"Asher, listen to me just this once... look at my hands!" I tried to reach for his hand, wanting to show him the fresh needle pricks on my fingertips—the literal proof that I was the one who sewed that dress until the break of dawn. However, before my fingers could even graze his skin, he swatted my hand away brutally, as if my touch were a contagious filth.

"Don't touch me," he hissed coldly.

A lethal silence fell over the hallway. The world seemed to stop spinning for me. I watched the boy I had loved in silence for ten years, the boy who was my sole reason for surviving the hell of this house, now look at me as if I were the most hideous monster on earth.

Without another word, Asher spun around. He wrapped his arm around Aileen’s waist and guided her away, leaving the dark corridor behind as they headed toward the brilliantly lit living room. I could hear Asher’s gentle voice trying to soothe Aileen, whispering sweet promises about the future—a voice that used to belong to me, but had now been completely stolen by a flawless lie.

I stood there frozen, entirely alone in the increasingly cold hallway. The light in front of me seemed to drift further away, casting a long shadow that swallowed my body whole. I could smell the lingering scent of Aileen’s perfume in the air—sweet, expensive rose, yet it felt utterly suffocating.

My palms, raw from the dish soap, now throbbed with pain, but that sting was nothing compared to the hollow void eating away at my soul. In this house, in this very hallway, I realized the bitterest truth of all. It wasn't just my embroidered handkerchief or my finest dress design that had been stolen; my place in Asher’s heart had been replaced by a counterfeit that he worshipped as the holiest truth.

Aria Maheswari. That name now meant nothing but 'trash' in the ears of the person she cherished most. I was a shadow in my own home, alienated by my own flesh and blood. Meanwhile, behind those closed doors, my twin was celebrating her victory, toasting atop the mountain of my tears that they would never see, let alone value.

I sank down onto the cold marble floor, hugging my knees tightly in the darkness. Nobody came. Nobody asked if I was okay. In Asher’s world, I was already dead. And in my own world, I was just the remnants waiting for time to run out.