Shadows Between Sisters

Lines Redrawn

Racheal stared at herself in the bathroom mirror long after the confrontation in the student union. Her reflection looked unfamiliar—eyes swollen, lips trembling, cheeks blotchy.

“Who are you?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Her reflection didn’t answer. It only mocked her, the broken girl she swore she’d never be.

She splashed cold water on her face, but it didn’t wash away the ache in her chest. Nothing did. Not the music blasting in her earbuds, not the hours pretending to study, not even the laughter she forced out in front of classmates.

Because at night, when the dorm was silent, the truth came crashing back: Angel was gone. Not physically, but gone from her.

And that hurt more than losing Daniel ever could.

That evening, Chika knocked gently on her door.

“Rach? It’s me.”

Racheal groaned. “Not in the mood, Chika.”

But Chika didn’t leave. She pushed the door open, holding two cups of hot chocolate. “Tough. I’m coming in anyway.”

Racheal rolled her eyes but didn’t protest. Chika sat on the bed beside her and handed her one of the cups.

“You know,” Chika said softly, “you don’t have to keep pretending you’re okay.”

Racheal let out a bitter laugh. “Funny. Everyone seems to think I’m the victim here. But I don’t feel like one.”

“Then what do you feel like?”

Racheal stared into the cup. “Like I’m drowning. Like Angel ripped the floor from under me, and now I don’t even know who I am without her.”

Chika reached for her hand. “You’re still Racheal. Strong, smart, funny Racheal. Don’t let this break you.”

But Racheal’s voice cracked. “It already has.”

Later that night, she found herself scrolling through old photos on her phone. Pictures of her and Angel—matching hoodies, silly faces, late-night pizza runs. In every photo, Angel’s arm was around her shoulder, as if promising she’d never leave.

Racheal’s chest tightened. Lies, she thought. All lies.

But a tear slid down her cheek anyway, because deep inside she knew it wasn’t a lie. Angel had loved her, once. Maybe she still did.

And that was the cruelest part.

The next day, Racheal tried to avoid both Angel and Daniel. She skipped classes where she knew they’d be, ate lunch at odd hours, kept her head down in the library. But campus was small, and fate wasn’t kind.

She was walking out of the bookstore when she almost collided with Angel.

For a moment, both froze. Angel’s eyes were red, her face pale. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Racheal’s throat burned with words she wanted to scream—Why? How could you? Do I even matter to you anymore? But instead, she walked past without a sound.

She didn’t look back, even though her heart begged her to.

That evening, Daniel found her in the quad.

“Racheal,” he said carefully. “Can we talk?”

She clenched her fists. “Haven’t you done enough talking already?”

“Please,” he insisted. “Just five minutes.”

She almost walked away, but something in his tone—gentle, almost regretful—made her pause. Against her better judgment, she sat on the bench with him.

“I know I hurt you,” Daniel began, his voice low. “I never meant to. I was confused, caught between both of you. But the truth is…I care about Angel.”

Racheal flinched as if struck. Her nails dug into her palms.

“You came here to rub that in my face?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I came here because I also care about you. Not like I did before, but…you were important to me. And I don’t want us to end in hate.”

Racheal’s laugh was hollow. “You don’t get to decide that, Daniel. You already chose.”

Daniel’s eyes softened. “And I’ll have to live with that. But you—” He hesitated. “Don’t let this destroy you. You’re more than what happened between us.”

For a fleeting moment, she saw sincerity in his face. But the pain was too raw, too fresh. She stood up, her voice trembling.

“Don’t pretend you care about my healing when you’re the reason I’m bleeding.”

She walked away before he could answer, her vision blurred with tears.

That night, Racheal dreamt of Angel.

In the dream, they were laughing again, arms linked, whispering secrets in the dark. It felt so real she woke up smiling—until reality crashed in, leaving her sobbing into her pillow.

By morning, she felt hollow. Empty. As if part of her had been carved out and stolen.

And she hated Angel for it.

But she also hated herself for still loving her.

The chapter closes with Racheal at the campus chapel, kneeling in silence. The flickering candles reflected off her tear-streaked face as she whispered a prayer she wasn’t sure she believed in:

“God, help me forgive her…or help me forget her.”

Her voice cracked. “Because right now, I can’t do either.”