Cut From the Same Cloth: The Ruthless Glow-Up of Seraphic

We were cut from the very same cloth, woven in the exact same womb, yet my sister treated me like a stain she couldn’t wash away. I sat in the dim corner of the classroom, my fingers trembling slightly as I clutched the edges of my worn notebook. My stomach gave a familiar, hollow ache. Another morning of starvation. Saffron had made sure of it, clearing out the pantry before I even woke up. It wasn’t because she was hungry; it was because she detested my existence. We shared the exact same face, the same high cheekbones and striking eyes, but that was where the resemblance died. While Saffron sported a crown of vibrant ginger hair, my locks fell in waves of a dark, midnight bluish black. And beneath the oversized, ragged sweaters I purposely drowned myself in, lived a body she absolutely envied. Saffron was plain, straight, and boxy. I, despite the lack of food, carried the lush curves of a model, a hidden, rich hourglass silhouette that I kept buried in baggy clothes out of sheer fear. Saffron knew it. She knew that if I ever stood in the light, her shadow would disappear. So, she stole the one thing that belonged to my heart: Dane. And she brought her kingdom with her to ensure I stayed crushed. The heavy classroom doors suddenly slammed open, the loud bang shattering the quiet hum of my thoughts. “Oh, look, Dane! The freak is actually studying," a sharp, mocking voice echoed through the room. My heart dropped into my throat. Saffron. She strutted down the aisle, her arm tightly wrapped around Dane’s. Dane was my childhood crush, the boy whose smile used to be my only sanctuary. Now, he looked at me with a cold, dismissive indifference that cut deeper than any blade. Trailing behind them like a well-trained pack of wolves was Saffron’s elite circle, the girls who used to be my childhood friends before Saffron poisoned their minds. There was Chloe, the brutal enforcer who lived to do Saffron's dirty work. Behind her giggled the clones, Harper and Mia, while Maya, quiet and hesitant, looked everywhere but at me. Saffron had systematically forced them to choose: align with the popular twin, or be cast into the social gutter with me. Fear made them obey her. Saffron dragged Dane right to my desk, leaning over with a malicious grin playing on her lips. In her hand, she held a carton of rich strawberry milk that Dane had just bought for her. "You look a little pale today, sister," Saffron sneered, her eyes flashing with a sudden, wicked intent. "Let me help you with that." Before I could even blink, Saffron tilted her wrist with practiced, cruel clumsiness. Splash. The thick, cold pink liquid cascaded directly over my head, soaking through my hair and drenching the front of my thin white shirt. Chloe instantly erupted into a loud cackle, and the clones chimed in right on cue. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! It just slipped!" Saffron giggled, her voice dripping with fake innocence as she stepped back, pulling Dane with her. But as the heavy fabric of my oversized shirt soaked through, it became completely translucent. It clung tightly to my skin like a second layer, instantly stripping away my hiding place. The baggy illusion vanished, revealing the stunning, full contours of my bust and the breathtaking, narrow curve of my waist. For a breathless, agonizing second, the mocking laughter in the room died down. Even Chloe froze. Dane’s eyes widened. His gaze dropped to my exposed body, stuck in absolute fascination. His throat moved as he swallowed hard, a dark spark of pure admiration crossing his features before he caught himself and sharply forced his eyes away, his knuckles turning white. Saffron’s face turned completely pale with rage as she noticed his look. Her fake, sweet innocence shattered, replaced by a raw, ugly venom. "Look at you, hiding like a pathetic, desperate slut!" Saffron screeched, violently flipping my desk over. My notes, my books, and the few crumpled pens I owned clattered on the floor, splashing into the puddle of pink milk. "Get a cover, freak! Nobody wants to see that," Chloe chimed in brutally, kicking my pencil case across the floor to please Saffron. "You think, because you have a little skin showing, would anyone ever look at you?" Saffron whispered viciously, leaning down. "You're a shadow, Seraphic! A malnourished, ugly shadow!" She deliberately stomped her designer heel directly onto my open notebook, grinding the pages into the dirt. I sat there on the floor, shivering from the cold liquid, my hands covering my chest as tears finally spilled over my eyelashes. I looked up at Dane, silently begging him with my eyes to say something. To be the boy from our childhood. But Dane just cleared his throat, avoiding my gaze entirely. He pulled Saffron back, his voice tight. "Come on, Saffron. Let’s go. She’s not worth the dirt on your shoes anyway." Those words. They didn't just hurt; they utterly snapped the final, fragile string holding my soul together. As they walked out of the classroom, the remaining students were laughing and whispering behind their hands, a profound, aching loneliness hollowed out my chest. "Father," my mind wept. "Where are you?" If he had been there, if he gave even a fraction of a care to look at the daughter who shared his quiet nature—none of this would have gotten this bad. I needed to escape. I needed to change schools, to go somewhere far away where nobody knew the name Seraphic or the shadow she cast. Gathering my wet, ruined notebooks, I didn't cry out loud. I couldn't. I just ran out of the school gates, my feet moving on autopilot, the cold wind biting against my soaked shirt as I fled into the rain.