Chapter 8: The Room Full of Secrets
Mia’s room looked different.
Not messy.
Not damaged.
Organized.
Too organized.
At first, I didn’t understand.
Then I saw the boxes.
Dozens of them.
My father walked inside.
“What is all this?””
Nobody answered.
Because Mia wasn’t there.
Only the evidence she left behind.
I opened the nearest box.
Inside were printed emails.
Photos.
Documents.
My heart started racing.
There were years of records.
My achievements.
My awards.
My certificates.
Copies of my acceptance letters.
Why would Mia keep these?
Then I found a notebook.
The first page had one sentence written across it.
*Things Emma has that should have been mine.*
I felt sick.
I flipped through the pages.
Dates.
Events.
Memories.
Everything.
When I won my science competition.
When I got my scholarship.
When my father praised me.
Mia had written about every moment.
Not as memories.
As evidence.
My father took the notebook from my hand.
His face changed as he read.
“This is not jealousy.””
I looked at him.
“What is it?””
He closed the notebook.
“Obsession.””
A sound came from the doorway.
Mia.
She was standing there.
Her face was pale.
“You weren’t supposed to find that.””
My father turned.
“Where were you?””
She looked down.
“I needed air.””
I held up the notebook.
“How long?””
She didn’t answer.
“How long have you hated me?””
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t hate you.””
“Then explain this.””
She walked closer.
“I hated how easy everything looked for you.””
I stared.
“Easy?””
She laughed sadly.
“You don’t understand.””
“No, Mia.””
My voice shook.
“You don’t understand.””
I pointed around the room.
“You watched me struggle and called it luck.””
She looked away.
“I was tired of being second.””
“Second?””
I stepped closer.
“You made it a competition.””
She whispered:
“Because everyone else did.””
My father shook his head.
“No. You did.””
Mia cried.
And for the first time, I believed she was actually sorry.
But regret did not erase damage.
The next morning, Rachel was gone.
She left before anyone woke up.
No note.
No apology.
Just gone.
My father found out she had emptied part of their joint account.
The same day.
The betrayal continued.
But then something happened that none of us expected.
Mia called the police.
Not on us.
On her own mother.
She told them everything.
The altered documents.
The financial theft.
The plans.
Everything.
When my father asked why, she gave one answer.
“Because I finally realized she never did it for me.””
I listened from the doorway.
“What do you mean?””
Mia looked at me.
“She wasn’t trying to help me win.””
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“She was trying to make you lose.””
The words stayed with me.
Because that was the truth.
Rachel hadn’t been fighting for Mia.
She had been fighting against me.
A week later, the legal process began.
My life became paperwork.
Interviews.
Questions.
But something surprising happened.
People apologized.
Teachers.
Counselors.
Family members who finally understood what had happened.
And then, on a quiet afternoon, my father gave me something.
A box.
“What is this?””
He smiled.
“Open it.””
Inside was fabric.
New fabric.
A dress.
I looked at him.
“You didn’t have to.””
“I know.””
He smiled.
“That’s why I wanted to.””
I touched the material.
It wasn’t the same dress.
It never could be.
But it was beautiful.
“I can’t replace what happened.””
I nodded.
“No.””
He looked at me.
“But I can remind you that nobody gets to take your moment away.””
I smiled for the first time in weeks.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
And my smile disappeared.
Because the message wasn’t from Rachel.
It wasn’t from Mia.
It was from someone I had never met.
The message said:
*You think Rachel was the person behind everything?*
May you like
A second message appeared.
*She was only following orders.*
