I don't know why I made my bed that morning. Or why I swept the floor twice even though it was already clean. Maybe it was guilt. Or maybe it was me trying to pretend everything was fine when deep down, my chest was on fire.
The room looked beautiful, though. My curtains danced slowly with the breeze, sunlight came in like it had manners, and even the mirror caught a soft glow. My room had never looked more peaceful.
Too bad I wasn't.
I was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, staring at the floor when Mum stepped in. She looked around slowly and smiled.
"Your room looks really nice," she said. "Calm. Natural. Just like you."
I gave a small smile, the kind that doesn't reach your eyes. "Yeah. You decorated it yourself, remember?"
She raised her brow slightly and walked further in. "True. I decorated this room the way I raised you."
Her tone was light, but deep down, I knew something was hidden. Something I couldn't quite place my hands on.
She sat beside me and opened her hand.
Money.
I froze.
"I found this under your shelf while cleaning," she said. Her voice wasn't sharp. It wasn't even angry. It was worse—it was steady.
Cold silence sat between us.
"Mum…" My voice cracked. "It's not yours. And it's not mine either."
She didn't say anything. Just waiting.
"I took it," I admitted. "From the school shopkeeper's desk"
Still, she said nothing.
"I didn't mean to use it. I just—" I paused, the words choking up. "I was trying to do something. Something I thought would make me feel better. But it didn't."
The silence was heavier now.
"There's this new girl," I finally said, looking down at my fingers. "She transferred in some weeks ago. She's smart. And calm. And the kind of pretty that doesn't even try."
I swallowed.
"Since she came, everyone has noticed her more than me. My teachers. My friends. They all liked her."
I didn't know when the tears came, but they were there. Sitting in my eyes, waiting.
"I scored 80 on a test last week. Some people laughed. Some just stared like it was strange. And for the first time, I didn't feel myself. I felt... invisible."
Mum still hadn't spoken. She just looked at me.
"I felt like I was being replaced without warning. Like the moment she showed up, I became optional."
I shook my head. "I know how it sounds. But that's how it felt."
"And so?" Mum asked quietly. "What did you do?"
I hesitated. My hands were trembling.
"I blamed her," I whispered. "I told them she took the money since they're struggling with finances now. I thought if something happened to her, maybe things would return to normal."
Mum closed her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them slowly.
"So, it's not just about the money," she said. "It's about how you felt. Like you were being pushed out."
I nodded.
"And your solution… was to push her out first?"
That stung.
I couldn't respond.
She finally stood, crossed her arms gently. "It's easy to be good when things are going well. But who are you when you're no longer the star? That's who you really are, Olivia."
Her words cut deep—not like a knife, but like truth.
"I'm not proud of it," I said, voice low.
"I know." She sighed. "Thinking you're above ridicule or replacement... That's pride. And I've taught you better."
I wiped my face with my sleeve, trying not to cry harder.
"You won't always be queen of the class," she said softly. "And you don't need to be. It's okay to score 80. It's okay not to be perfect. In this world, popularity and perfect grades come and go. But what stays is your heart. Who you are when no one's clapping."
She walked to my desk and placed the money down.
"I'm not going to cover this up. And I'm not going to force your next step. You already know what you have to do."
Then, right before she left, she looked back.
"I love you, Olivia. No matter what. But loving you doesn't mean shielding you from consequences."
The door clicked softly behind her.
I don't remember walking into school. Or walking past the classrooms. Or even standing in front of her.
Sara.
She had just stepped out of the principal's office. She looked a little pale, like her energy had been drained. Her expression was unreadable.
"Hi," I said, unsure if she'd even respond.
She gave a tiny nod. "Hey."
I took a deep breath. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
We stepped to the side of the hallway, near the window. Light split across the floor, but the air between us felt dark. Cold.
"I need to say something," I said. "And I don't expect you to forgive me. I just need to tell the truth."
Her eyes didn't blink. She just waited.
"I told them you took the money," I said. "It was I who took it. I lied. I blamed you. Because I was jealous. And scared. And I thought... if I made you look bad, maybe I'd feel better."
The words felt like broken glass. But I said it anyway.
"I didn't know you. I judged you based on how you made me feel about myself. Which is unfair. And wrong. And I'm sorry."
Sara stared at me for a long time.
Like she was searching my face for something real.
"I thought I was the only one who felt scared," she finally said.
My heart stills. "What do you mean?"
"When I came here," she said, "I was terrified. I didn't know if I'd fit in. I didn't know how to act. I felt like maybe I was too quiet or too weird. But everyone was kind. Even your friends."
I looked down, ashamed.
"I never wanted to take anything from you," she added softly. "I just wanted to belong somewhere."
"I know," I said, my voice breaking. "You didn't do anything wrong."
She smiled a little. "You told the truth. That's something."
I shook my head. "It doesn't fix what I did."
"No," she agreed. "But it's a start."
We stood there, quiet again. The bell rang in the distance, but neither of us moved.
"I'm not the enemy, Olivia," she said gently. "I'm just… a girl. Same as you."
And in that moment, I felt more seen by her than I had in weeks.
I gave a small nod. "Thank you. For listening."
"I hope it gets better," she said, then turned to walk away.
As I watched her go, a voice behind me said, "You're brave, you know?"
I turned. But no one was there.
Just a soft wind. And footsteps around the hallway.
Maybe it was in my head. Maybe it was real.
But something told me this wasn't the end.