Chapter XIX

Be aware of switching POV's.

Esteire’s POV

She wasn’t going to like it. 

That, I knew. As for the truth about us, I could only fathom her possible reactions and what may ensue after.

At the time of the decision, it was the only direction to take despite the consequences. If I hadn’t only been but a child, I would’ve prevented such a choice coming to fruition. But it wasn’t in my power.

Her whole life was a lie.

Elisa’s POV

My thoughts danced over to Lucien from the other day. Between him and my sister, I didn’t know what to do with them; they’re were enigmas.

However, we were sisters, so I at least understood Esteire sometimes.

It wasn’t meant to be.

Though the heartache wasn’t clearly written across his face, his voice betrayed every ambivalent sentiment he felt. As the sensitive and curious girl I was, I couldn’t help but worry and wonder.

I glance over to the left. Passive as usual. Or...

She sensed my gaze and met my eyes. And looked apprehensive. My brows furrowed in matched concern. Startled, her expression eased and she stopped walking.

We were at the top of a minuscule rise.

“Elisa...” she murmured, “It’s about time I told you something. Something I should’ve told you months ago and something you should’ve known years ago.”

My heart quickened its pace; I didn’t like the foreboding feel to the air around us. Just what was she going to tell me?

Esteire sighed and looked to the horizon, her eyes a conflicted blue. Then she readjusted them back towards me.

“I’m leaving in a week,” she says bluntly.

It was like something detonated inside myself. It was more than shock, it was complete horror.

“What’re you saying?!” I cry, my voice strangled with multiplying perturbation.

“I’m traveling back to the United States,” she replies, tensely composed.

“But-but- We’re sisters!” I demur, the tears already forming at my eyes.

If she had been any other girl other than Esteire, I would’ve strived to talk her out of it, but she was Esteire, and I knew it would’ve been futile.

Her eyes darkened.

“But you see, we’re not.”

...

What?

What?

My voice quavered, pitching on my last word, “We aren’t..sisters?”

She nodded her head slowly, her tone mournful as she began.

“I was three years old, you just turned two. I got separated from my birthparents and found myself alone wandering the streets of who knows where. That’s when the Sylanites stumbled across me. They couldn’t have a child of their own, so they took me in as their adoptive daughter. A couple years later though, Mrs. Sylanite passed away, and Mr. Sylanite remarried.

“That’s when you came into the picture, Elisa. You were only four years when I met you. Our- your father is the present Mrs. Sylanite’s brother. My father showered me with lots of attention, and as time went by, she became jealous of me.

“I was a frequent visitor to your family, so it makes sense you thought of me as a sister. Very soon though, father was blackmailed by his wife, and I was sent by him to live with you. They felt guilty for what happened as they had introduced the two, so they took extra care to make me feel welcome. That’s why they act the way they do. However, since a few years ago, father overcame the threats. 

“I could return.”

She stopped to consider my reaction.

Pain. Sadness. Dismay. Betrayal.

Was everything a lie?

This long lasting facade crippled my heart, and I clenched my hands together to try to ease my shuddering body.

Those treasured memories were just a blithe prelude to when she would leave me and the childhood we spent together. 

“Do you, blame me?” she asks quietly.

I snapped at her, “Of course I do! Why’d you have to stay if you could’ve just left when you were able, so I wouldn’t be-”

Salty streams flowed freely down my cheeks, glittering puddles on my hands as I sought to wipe them away.

Though I said I blamed her, I knew that even if she had left how many years ago she was able, I would’ve still cried about her since, from the very beginning, the first time I settled my eyes upon her, I was ensnared. The warm light that emanated from her even as a child was overwhelmingly obvious, and I wanted to bask in that beautiful light.

She might’ve thought that my parents acted the way they did only because of her, but I knew better. They were busy with their own lives, and it was only after Esteire that they changed. I became homeschooled.

They told me that she had been staying with a relative in order to focus on me. I believed them because Aunt Sylanite was my father’s sister. I believed them because I was a premature baby who needed homeschooling for her health. I believed them because they fussed over Esteire as if in apology of the years they’ve missed with her. 

That’s why I didn’t blame the attention she received from them.

But all this, was a mere play to them. 

I wasn’t premature; I didn’t need to be homeschooled. That was a basis and a ploy to make it seem like they cared. A setup by them, and the Sylanites.

I know this because mother once slipped saying I was a perfectly healthy child at birth. I played outdoors a lot; I wasn’t cooped up inside on account of being ‘delicate’.  I was smart; I didn’t need private tutors.

I.

I was just a simple marionette.