You are pale
1114 Words
My parents had taken a huge loan to celebrate Talia’s engagement. A grand hall. Expensive decorations. Food for hundreds. Everything had to look perfect—even if it drowned them in debt.
And who had to repay it?
Me.
Every month, they expected money from me. Not a request. A demand.
“You earn, so you pay,” my mother said coldly.
“Why else do we keep you?” my father added once, without shame.
When I tried to talk about my studies, they laughed.
“Find one more job,” they said.
“No need to study so much.”
“Nothing good is going to happen in your life like Talia’s.”
Their words crushed something inside me—again and again—until hope felt foolish.
So I didn’t argue.
I never did.
I ran through the house, cleaning every corner before the engagement guests arrived. Sweeping. Washing. Scrubbing. My hands burned, my back screamed, sweat soaked my clothes—but no one cared.
Talia sat in front of the mirror, glowing, laughing, being pampered like a goddess.
And I?
I was invisible.
Not a sister.
Not a daughter.
Just unpaid labor—working to build a future that was never meant to include me.
As I wiped the floor, tears slipped down silently. I swallowed my sobs because crying wasted time—and time, in this house, was only valuable if it was spent serving others.
I didn’t know how much more I could take.
But I knew one thing for sure—
This house was slowly killing me.
Lately, my body hasn’t felt like my own.
Everything aches. My limbs feel heavy, my head constantly throbbing. Even after resting, I feel exhausted—bone-deep tired, the kind that sleep can’t cure. And the nausea… it comes in waves, sudden and cruel, leaving me dizzy and weak.
Why is this happening?
This must be exhaustion. Too much work. Too many sleepless nights. The engagement preparations had drained every ounce of strength from me. That had to be it.
It had to be.
The house emptied quickly. Laughter. Excitement. Music. Everyone dressed in their best clothes, leaving behind the dust, the silence—and me.
I stayed home.
Before leaving, Talia looked at me with cold eyes and said,
“Don’t come to the engagement.”
I froze.
“If people see you and know you’re my sister,” she continued, her voice sharp, “it will be shameful for me
A disgrace that needed to be hidden.
The door closed behind them, and the house fell silent.
I stood there alone, my chest tight, my body weak, my heart shattered into pieces so small I didn’t know how to breathe anymore.
After finishing my jobs, I went straight to college.
No one wanted me there anyway.
I walked through the campus with tired steps, my bag heavy on my shoulder, my heart even heavier. Laughter echoed around me—friends, couples, life moving forward—while I felt stuck, unwanted, invisible.
“Hey… buddy.”
An arm slipped around my shoulder.
I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Charles.
My best friend.
My childhood friend.
The only person who had stayed.
We had been in the same class since we were kids. He knew my silences better than my words.
“You’re here?” he asked gently. “Isn’t it your sister’s engagement today?”
I stopped walking.
“Why am I not there?” I snapped, bitterness spilling before I could stop it.
“Are you blind, Charles? Or deaf?”
He immediately lifted his hands. “Hey… I’m sorry. I was just asking.”
I laughed—but it was hollow, broken.
“Of course I’m not there.”
Then quietly, painfully, he said,
“Again… you’re the outcast. Even on your own sister’s engagement day.”
The words hit harder because they were true.
I looked away, blinking fast. “Say it softly at least,” I whispered. “It already hurts enough.”
Charles tightened his arm around my shoulder. “You don’t deserve this, Tara.”
I wanted to believe him.
But when the people who gave birth to you don’t want you…
when your own sister is ashamed of you…
It becomes hard to believe you deserve anything at all.
I forced a small smile. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go to class.”
Because pretending I was normal
hurt less than admitting how alone I truly was.
After two classes, I still hadn’t eaten anything. My stomach felt strange—empty yet unsettled.
Charles appeared beside my desk, holding a small paper bag.
“Come on, Tara. You’ll faint at this rate. Let’s eat something.”
He dragged me to the canteen and bought a simple breakfast—two plain vegetable sandwiches and a cup of hot tea. Nothing fancy. Cheap. Filling. The kind of food we usually survived on.
The moment the smell hit my nose, my stomach twisted violently.
“Oh no… no, no—”
I barely made it to the washroom before everything inside me came out. My body shook as I leaned over the sink, miserable and embarrassed.
“Tara!” Charles burst in after me, panicked. “What happened?”
I wiped my mouth, groaning.
“I don’t know… every time I smell food, I feel like throwing up. My stomach hates me.”
He stared at me for a second, then suddenly grinned.
“Are you pregnant?”
“What?!” I almost yelled.
He raised his eyebrows teasingly. “You know… nausea, vomiting, weakness—classic symptoms.”
I rolled my eyes. “Charles, don’t be stupid. Pregnancy doesn’t happen by magic.”
Then, lowering my voice, I added, “Someone needs to… you know… touch me there with his.”
I vaguely pointed downward. “Otherwise, no treatment, no miracle.”
He burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, biology professor! Calm down.”
But then his smile faded as he really looked at me.
“You’re pale, Tara. Like, ghost-level pale.”
“I’m fine,” I muttered weakly.
“No, you’re not,” he said firmly. “You need to go to the hospital. Something’s wrong.”
“I’ll go in the evening,” I said. “After college.”
“I’ll come with you,” he replied instantly.
I sighed. “Okay, okay. Stop acting like my worried husband.”
He smirked. “Someone has to. Clearly your body is planning a rebellion.”
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me.
For the first time that day, it felt good—not to be alone.
- Writer
