Faking Mrs. Sterling

The Favorite Child

AMELIA'S POV

I could hear them before I even reached the living room.

At first, they were vague, mixed with the sound of the television downstairs. But as I got closer, the shouting became clearer, sharper, like glass scratching against glass.

I stopped walking immediately.

My fingers curled tightly around the edge of the wall beside me while I stood there quietly, barely breathing.

“She’s not being considerate,” Leonard Bennett said angrily.

My stomach twisted.

I already knew they were talking about me.

“She’s just a child,” Aunt Claire argued quickly. “Even Kelvin would throw a tantrum if all my attention was on Kale. Amelia didn’t even do that.”

“Ten years old is not a child anymore,” Dad snapped. “She should be mature enough to understand that her sister is sick.”

I slowly leaned closer to the small opening in the door.

Dad sat stiffly beside Mum on the couch, his jaw tight with irritation. Across from them stood Aunt Claire with her arms folded tightly against her chest like she was holding herself back from saying worse things.

Mum stayed quiet.

Her eyes were fixed on her lap, and her fingers twisted together nervously.

She looked small somehow.

Like she wanted to disappear into the couch cushions.

“Ken isn’t even sick anymore,” Aunt Claire shot back. “Not like before. You both need to start treating your daughters equally.”

Her voice cracked slightly before she looked directly at my mother.

“And you, Sarah…” she said softly, almost disappointed. “Are you even acting like a mother right now?”

The room went silent.

The kind of silence that made my chest feel tight.

I swallowed hard and pressed myself closer to the wall.

Aunt Claire and Mum used to laugh together all the time before I came here. Back then, they sounded like sisters.

Now every conversation between them felt sharp and uncomfortable.

Sometimes I wondered if bringing me back had ruined everything.

“Why would you say that?” Mum whispered finally, her voice trembling. “I’m trying my best—”

“No.” Aunt Claire cut her off immediately. “You don’t get to say that.”

Her voice grew louder.

“Amelia sees everything, even if you think she doesn’t. The way you ignore that child is hurting her.”

My chest tightened painfully.

I looked down at my hands.

“She notices every little thing,” Aunt Claire continued angrily. “Every time Kendall gets comforted first. Every time Amelia gets pushed aside. Every single time she pretends not to care.”

A lump formed in my throat.

“One day,” Aunt Claire said more quietly now, “all this pain is going to turn into something bigger.”

“I love both my daughters equally,” Mum said quickly, almost like she was trying to convince herself too.

“There’s no point explaining yourself to her,” Dad muttered coldly.

Then he lifted his head and looked directly at Aunt Claire.

“She would understand us better if she also had a sick child.”

The words shattered across the room.

Even from outside the door, I saw the hurt spread across Aunt Claire’s face.

Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to speak, but nothing came out at first.

I quickly looked away and slid down against the wall until I was sitting on the floor.

My throat burned.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Aunt Claire finally broke the silence.

“I blame myself,” she whispered softly.

Her voice sounded tired now.

Broken.

“I shouldn’t have brought her back here.”

“Sister-in-law!” Mum gasped.

“Yes,” Dad fired back harshly. “You should’ve just kept her with you forever.”

Something inside me cracked quietly.

Not loudly.

Not all at once.

Just a small painful break somewhere deep in my chest.

“I’ll take her back,” Aunt Claire said firmly this time. “She’s my child. I’ll raise her myself.”

My eyes filled with tears instantly.

When I was younger, I truly believed Aunt Claire was my real mother.

I grew up in her house with Uncle Ben, Kelvin, and Kale. Back then, I thought the boys were my real older brothers too.

I remembered sitting between them during dinner.

Helping Aunt Claire water flowers outside.

Falling asleep on the couch while Uncle Ben carried me to bed.

That house had always felt warm.

Safe.

It wasn’t until I turned six that I learned the truth.

That I belonged here instead.

Or maybe I didn’t belong anywhere at all.

Because in the four years I had lived in this house, I had never truly felt wanted.

At Aunt Claire’s house, I was seen.

I was heard.

I was loved loudly.

But here…

I felt invisible.

Like a shadow standing in the corner of someone else’s family picture.

And somehow, even after everything, I still didn’t want to be the kind of child people fought over.

Or the kind people regretted bringing home.

“Amelia! Amelia!”

Aunt Claire’s voice echoed through the house so loudly that my heart jumped inside my chest.

I hurried out of my room almost immediately, my socks sliding slightly against the wooden floor as I ran downstairs.

Aunt Claire stood near the front door with her handbag hanging from one shoulder.

“Pack your things,” she said gently. “We’re leaving.”

Then she smiled at me.

Not the tight, polite kind adults gave children when they were pretending everything was fine.

A real smile.

Soft.

Warm.

The kind that made me feel seen.

Aunt Claire was one of the very few people who smiled at me like that anyways.

Like she was actually happy I existed.

“Y-Yes, ma,” I whispered.

Without meaning to, my eyes slowly drifted toward Dad.

The second they did, I wished they hadn’t.

I didn’t completely understand the expression on his face, but I recognized enough of it to know it wasn’t good.

There was irritation there.

Annoyance.

And underneath both of them was something colder.

Something heavy.

Sometimes I thought Dad looked at me the same way people looked at stains they couldn’t wash out no matter how hard they tried.

And maybe the saddest part was that I had started believing it too.

I quickly lowered my head before he could catch me staring and hurried back upstairs.

The bedroom felt strangely empty when I walked in, even though Kendall’s things were still everywhere.

I pulled my small travel bag from under the bed and began stuffing clothes into it too quickly, my fingers shaking a little.

I was folding my last shirt when the door creaked open behind me.

“Am,” Kendall called softly.

I turned around so fast my neck hurt and immediately smiled at her.

Big.

Bright.

Perfect.

That was the rule.

Always smile at Kendall.

Even if I was sad.

Even if my chest hurt so badly it felt hard to breathe.

Even if tears were sitting in the back of my eyes.

Always smile.

One time, I forgot.

Kendall had come into the room talking excitedly about something, and I had been too upset to smile back properly.

Dad noticed immediately.

Kendall ended up feeling bad, and somehow that became my fault too.

He lectured me for days after that.

About kindness.

About sensitivity.

About how selfish I was becoming.

So now, whenever Kendall looked at me, I smiled automatically.

Like breathing.

“Dad seems angry,” she said carefully, leaning against the doorframe.

I kept folding clothes even though there was nothing left to fold.

I never really knew what I was supposed to say around Kendall anymore.

I was always scared the wrong words would somehow circle back to Dad later.

And if they did…

I would pay for it.

“He doesn’t usually get this upset,” Kendall continued with a shrug. “Aunt Claire probably said something annoying.”

I forced another smile onto my face.

But deep down, my chest tightened painfully.

Aunt Claire wasn’t annoying.

She was the only person in that house willing to stand up for me.

But saying that out loud felt dangerous.

“I’ll convince Dad to calm down,” Kendall said confidently. “You don’t need to worry. He always listens to me.”

Of course he does.

You’re the favorite child.

The thought slipped quietly into my head before I could stop it.

And immediately afterward came guilt.

Because Kendall wasn’t mean to me.

She never yelled.

Never hit.

Never made me cry on purpose.

But somehow, being loved so easily by everyone still made my chest ache whenever I looked at her.

“Amelia!” Aunt Claire called from downstairs.

“Coming!” I quickly zipped my bag shut.

Kendall smiled warmly at me.

“See you soon, sis.”

I smiled back automatically because that was what I was supposed to do.

But somewhere deep inside me, a small voice whispered quietly:

Hopefully not.

I carried my bag downstairs and found Aunt Claire standing impatiently near the front door.

The moment she noticed me struggling with the heavier bag, she grabbed it from my hand without saying anything.

“Let’s go,” she muttered.

And then something strange happened.

Nobody stopped us.

Dad stayed seated.

Mum stayed quiet.

Neither of them asked me to stay.

Not even a weak little “wait.”

Nothing.

It shouldn’t have hurt that much.

But it did.

Because a tiny part of me had still hoped someone would want me there.

Even after everything.

Aunt Claire spent most of the drive complaining angrily from the driver's seat of Uncle Ben’s old pickup truck — the rusty one he used for delivering vegetables and farm produce into town.

Normally, the truck was loud.

The engine rattled constantly, and one of the doors squeaked whenever the road got bumpy.

But that day, everything felt strangely quiet to me.

I barely listened to Aunt Claire talking.

I just rested my forehead against the cool window and watched the house disappear farther and farther away behind us.

The farther we drove, the lighter my chest began to feel.

Like invisible hands were finally loosening around my throat.

And for the first time in years…

I felt like I could breathe again.

We entered the small compound and I felt very happy.

Uncle Ben was already outside waiting when Aunt Claire’s truck pulled into the driveway.

The moment we stopped, he looked up from where he stood near the porch.

At first, he looked confused.

Like he wasn’t expecting to see me.

And maybe he really wasn’t.

I hadn’t been back in two years.

For a second, I just stared at him through the dusty truck window.

Uncle Ben looked different.

Older somehow.

There were darker circles under his eyes now, and deep lines rested on his forehead like he had been worrying too much for too long.

He looked tired.

Really tired.

But the second his eyes landed on me properly, his whole face softened.

Then he opened his arms wide.

That was all it took.

I jumped out of the truck before Aunt Claire could even say anything and ran straight into him.

The second his arms wrapped around me, something inside me broke apart completely.

I started crying.

Not the quiet kind I was used to doing alone under my blanket at night.

This was ugly crying.

Loud.

Shaky.

Painful.

The kind that made it hard to breathe.

And Uncle Ben just held me tighter.

“It’s okay,” he whispered softly, rubbing my back carefully. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay now.”

That only made me cry harder.

Because nobody had said something like that to me in such a long time.

After a while, Uncle Ben gently pulled away and wiped under my eyes with his thumb before grabbing my bags from the truck.

I followed them inside slowly.

The second I stepped into the house,know chest tightened again.

Everything still smelled the same.

Warm bread.

Soap.

Fresh vegetables.

Home.

The living room looked almost exactly how I remembered it, except for a few little changes here and there. Some chairs were repositioned. New curtains were hung by the windows.

But somehow, it still felt familiar.

Safe.

Like the house remembered me even after all this time.

My eyes immediately searched around for Kelvin and Kale.

I didn’t see them anywhere.

“They went to deliver vegetables nearby,” Uncle Ben explained kindly as he carried my bag down the hallway. “They should be back soon.”

I smiled quietly.

The thought of seeing them again made my stomach flutter nervously.

Uncle Ben pushed open the bedroom door, and my breath caught in my throat instantly.

My room.

Or at least, the room that used to feel like mine.

The bunk bed Kelvin and Kale shared was still standing against the wall, just as tall and noisy-looking as I remembered.

And beside it…

My small bed was still there too.

It had been tied up neatly with sheets folded over it carefully, like someone had been waiting for me to come back and use it again someday.

That thought alone almost made me cry all over again.

I slowly looked around the room, taking everything in.

The old wooden shelf.

The faded blue curtains.

The tiny c***k near the window that Kale accidentally made years ago with a football.

Nothing important had changed.

And somehow, that made everything feel important.

Suddenly, Aunt Claire wrapped her arms tightly around me from behind.

“Welcome back home, Amy,” she whispered against my hair.

Home.

The word wrapped around my chest warmly.

“Yeah,” Uncle Ben added while struggling to untie my bed. “Welcome back, kiddo.”

A small laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

And for the first time in what felt like forever…

I felt happy.

Not pretend happy.

Not forced-smile happy.

Real happy.

“Mom!”

A familiar voice suddenly shouted from downstairs.

My eyes widened instantly.

Heavy footsteps thundered toward the room before Kelvin appeared by the doorway.

He froze the second he saw me.

“K-Kel,” I breathed.

Before I could even say anything else, Kale appeared behind him too.

The next thing I knew, I was running toward them.

They barely had time to react before I crashed into both of them at once.

Strong arms wrapped around me immediately.

And somehow, being hugged by them felt so familiar that my chest hurt all over again.

I missed them.

I missed them so much.

“Amy, you’re here!” Kale said excitedly, pulling back just enough to look at me properly.

His face lit up like Christmas morning.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Of course she’s here,” Kelvin muttered, ruffling my hair roughly like he always used to.

Normally, I hated people touching my hair.

But this time…

I didn’t mind at all.

It had been a whole week since I came back to Aunt Claire’s house, and honestly, I didn’t want to leave ever again.

Everything here felt easier somehow.

The air felt lighter.

The house felt warmer.

And for the first time in years, my chest didn’t feel heavy all the time.

I liked waking up to Aunt Claire singing badly in the kitchen while making breakfast.

I liked hearing Uncle Ben complain about his old truck every morning before leaving for work.

I liked helping Kelvin and Kale wash vegetables in the backyard while they splashed water at me just to annoy me.

I liked being here.

Here, nobody acted tired of me.

Nobody sighed whenever I walked into a room.

Nobody made me feel like I was something difficult they had to deal with.

My birthday was only one week away, and I was almost completely sure everyone was secretly planning a surprise for me.

The signs were everywhere.

Whenever I entered a room, conversations suddenly stopped.

Aunt Claire kept hiding shopping bags from me.

And twice already, I had caught Kale whispering something to Kelvin before both of them started laughing suspiciously.

They thought they were being sneaky.

They really weren’t.

Just thinking about it made excitement dance around inside my stomach.

I used to love birthdays.

Before I moved back in with Mum and Dad four years ago, birthdays at Aunt Claire’s house were always loud and happy.

Uncle Ben would hang decorations crookedly around the living room while Aunt Claire complained that he was making things worse instead of helping.

Kelvin and Kale would steal icing from the cake before it was finished.

And every single year, Aunt Claire would kiss my forehead and tell me that the day I was born was one of the happiest days of her life.

But after I left…

Birthdays stopped feeling special.

Sometimes they were forgotten until late in the day.

Sometimes Dad was too busy taking care of Kendall.

Sometimes Mum just looked too tired.

After a while, I stopped expecting much from them at all.

But here…

Here felt different.

I was washing dishes after lunch, quietly humming to myself, when someone knocked on the front door.

The sound echoed through the house.

“Who’s closest to the door?” Aunt Claire shouted from the backyard.

“I’ll get it Aunt!” I yelled back.

The word Aunt still felt strange sometimes.

Not because I didn’t love her.

I did.

Very much.

But years ago, before I moved back with my real parents, I used to call her Mummy.

Sometimes I still wanted to.

Especially when she brushed my hair away from my face gently or kissed my forehead without thinking about it.

Those little things made something ache warmly inside my chest.

Maybe one day, I would start calling her that again.

I quickly dried my wet hands against my shorts and walked into the living room.

Another knock came before I reached the door.

For some reason, my heart suddenly started beating faster.

“I’m coming,” I called softly as I reached for the doorknob.

I slowly pulled the door open.

And immediately froze.

Kendall stood there smiling brightly at me.

Behind her were Mum and Dad.

My happiness disappeared so quickly it almost frightened me.

Something twisted painfully inside my stomach.

Dad looked serious.

Mum looked nervous.

But Kendall just kept smiling at me like everything was normal.

Why are they even here?