Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others

"Selena, are you jealous of her because she got to live and study in the US?"

The question made Hermia shift uncomfortably, her unease visible. She wasn't sure whether Sasha was genuinely defending her or just stirring the pot. 

Sasha's calculated demeanor suggested the latter—she seemed more invested in needling Selena than supporting Hermia.

Selena's eyes rolled dramatically as she let out a scoff. "Jealous? That's ridiculous," she retorted, her voice tinged with mockery. "I stayed back because I'm a filial daughter," she added, resting a delicate hand over her chest. "I put my parents first."

Hermia's stomach twisted as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The weight of her past—of being sent away, not out of love but convenience—pressed heavily on her. 

Selena's words stung, twisting the narrative to paint herself as the selfless, devoted child while implying Hermia had been selfish for leaving.

Hermia shifted uneasily on her feet, the weight of old memories pressing heavily on her. 

At just 12 years old, she had been sent to the US—not out of love or concern but because her father and his wife despised her. 

They had always treated her as an unwanted presence, a stain on their perfect lives. 

Even their daughter, who was close in age to Hermia, had been taught to view her as competition, though Hermia was two months older.

Her grandparents, the esteemed patriarch and matriarch of the Blackwood family, were no better. 

They couldn't stand the sight of her either, their cold disapproval cutting deeper than words ever could. 

But sending her to an orphanage was out of the question—such an act would tarnish the pristine reputation of the Blackwood name. 

Instead, they cloaked their cruelty in a veneer of kindness, pretending to be generous and magnanimous parents while ensuring Hermia understood she was nothing more than an unwanted obligation.

And so, with no other options, she was shipped away, a quiet exile disguised as opportunity, left to make sense of a world where even her own family wished she didn't exist.

It hadn't been easy for Hermia in school. Every step of her education felt like walking a tightrope, the fear of failure looming over her like a constant shadow. 

She could never truly relax, never savor her achievements, always bracing herself for the sting of disappointment. 

And yet, now that she was back, everyone around her seemed to believe a different narrative—that she had thrived effortlessly.

The truth was far more bitter. In a society driven by self-interest, loyalty belonged to those who offered the most benefit, and Hermia had never been one of those people. 

The Blackwood family, however, was another story. 

They were rich, influential, and highly sought after. 

As one of the top ten wealthiest and most revered families in the country, they basked in admiration, though they still ranked below seven others in certain aspects. 

Their name carried weight, their reputation immaculate, and they would do anything to preserve that.

Hermia, with her very existence, was seen as a threat to that pristine image—a potential crack in their perfect façade. 

To avoid the shame of public scrutiny, they had kept her at arm's length, shipping her away under the guise of opportunity and shelter. 

For years, she had been hidden, tucked away from the family portrait. 

Only now, after graduating, had she been summoned back home, not out of love or longing but because she was no longer a child they could so easily send away.

Selena's reply about being filial to her parents hinting at Hermia being unfilial settled in everyone's minds quickly.

"You're absolutely right," Sasha chimed in with an exaggerated pout, feigning agreement with the others' cruel assessment. "I just can't understand how someone as kind and graceful as you, Selena, could be related to someone so selfish and… irritating."

Selena sighed dramatically, lifting her glass with practiced elegance. "I try my best," she lamented, her tone dripping with mock martyrdom. "But no matter how much I work to cover up for her disgrace, she always finds a way to make me look bad."

Rachel, always eager to insert herself and stir the pot, leaned forward with a smooth, cutting remark. "She must've been living it up in the US, enjoying herself, while you were here taking care of your grandparents, your mother, and your father. All by yourself!"

A small, satisfied smile teased at Selena's lips, but she quickly suppressed it. This wasn't the time to show her glee. 

She wanted Hermia's reputation destroyed, but subtly, without tarnishing her own image. She pressed her lips together, feigning a pained expression.

"I'll never tire," Selena declared, her voice soft but resolute, as if her suffering was a badge of honor. "It's the least I can do for the people who gave me life and my lifestyle."

Hermia's stomach churned as her face flushed with indignation. She couldn't fathom why Selena was so intent on tearing her down. 

She had barely returned and had done nothing to warrant such hostility. "But that's not how it—" she began, her voice quivering with frustration, only to be interrupted.

"Heavens, Hermia!" Selena gasped, her voice rising with a theatrical edge. Her frown deepened as she placed a hand over her heart, a picture of wounded innocence. "Are you actually trying to say I'm lying about everything I've done for our parents?"

"No, I—" Hermia stammered, shaking her head quickly. Her carefully styled black hair bobbed softly as she tried to explain. "I'm not saying that, but it wasn't exactly—"

Rachel cut in briskly, her voice sharp and her expression oozing disdain. "Here you are, causing a scene at someone else's birthday party," she sneered. "How inconsiderate."

The whispers in the room grew louder, and Hermia could feel the weight of countless eyes on her. Her chest tightened, humiliation clawing at her insides.

She didn't mean to do that! They put her in this spot.

Hermia wished she could say the words swirling in her mind—to defend herself, to put them in their place—but how could she?