Youre the perfect one in our family, Emma shouted, her voice echoing like a bell in the cramped office. Want to know why? Because Im tired of always being secondbest! In school you were top of the class, every teacher fawned over you. At university you graduated with firstclass honours, while I scraped through resits. At work youre climbing ladders and collecting bonuses, and Im stuck on the same rung! I want a high salary and respect from the boss, understand? I want to be number one too!
***
Great, another slap on the wrist from management, Emma muttered, slammed her laptop shut and flung herself back into the swivel chair with a sigh that rattled the armrests.
Clara looked up from her screen, a halfsmile tugging at the corners of her mouth. You made a mistake in the report, didnt you? Did they pat you on the head for that?
Emma pursed her lips, turned to the window, and her cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and fury. Clara ignored the sour look and began gathering her belongings. The day finally slipped away; the files slid neatly into a folder, the mug clinked into the sink.
Emma stayed silent, a statue as they walked down the hallway toward the exit. Only after the doors of the office block closed behind them did the younger sister speak again.
You find it funny, dont you? Youre the perfect one.
Clara exhaled. The argument had become a recurrent dream lately. Once, Emma would brush off criticism with a joke and move on. Now every sentence seemed laced with a bitter aftertaste.
I just do my job well, Emma. You can too.
Sure, of course.
They had both been in the procurement department of a large retail conglomerate for three years. Clara had gotten the job first, and half a year later helped Emma secure a place. The sisters had always been close, leaning on each other through thick and thin, but their approaches to work were worlds apart.
Clara stayed late, poring over supplier markets, comparing terms from dozens of firms before making a decision. Emma favoured a laidback rhythmjust enough to meet the deadline, then the rest of the day spent scrolling through her phone or chatting by the kitchen counter. Clara never judged Emmas style; each to their own.
A month earlier, the company called Clara into the directors office and offered her a promotion: senior procurement manager with a substantial raise of £15,000 a year. She was stunned, then accepted without hesitation. Years of meticulous effort finally bore fruit.
Emma hugged her that afternoon and offered congratulations, but Clara noticed the smile flicker out of Emmas eyes, the words sounding stretched and strained. That evening they went to a café to celebrate, yet the atmosphere felt oddly offkilter. Emma kept steering the conversation toward salary, asking how much more Clara would now earn, how many extra hours shed have to clock.
Youre just lucky the bosses noticed, otherwise youd still be stuck, right? Emma blurted between sips.
Lucky? Clara repeated. I spent two months on that project without a day off.
Right, of course.
Six months later Clara was named head of the whole department. The news rippled through the office like a sudden gust. Colleagues shook her hand, offered congratulations, and wished her success. Emma was the last to approach, wrapped her sister in a hug and whispered into her ear:
Congratulations. Youre a real powerhouse now.
There was no warmth in those words. Clara stepped back, met Emmas gaze, and saw something cold and alien, like a snake coiled in the shadows.
In the weeks that followed, the offices rhythm shifted subtly but inexorably. First, Clara stopped being invited to shared lunches. Then James from the neighbouring division no longer stopped by with his morning coffee. Colleagues exchanged dry nods and turned away, their smiles gone. Whispered laughs floated behind Claras back, and whenever she turned, everyone pretended to be engrossed in work.
Clara wondered what had changed. She had always been open, helpful, willing to share her expertise. Had the promotion altered how people saw her? She hadnt become a tyrant; she didnt shout at subordinates or set impossible targets.
One evening, as Clara was about to leave, Sophie appeared at her door, fidgeting and shifting weight from foot to foot.
Come in, Clara said. Whats wrong?
Sophie closed the door, sank into the chair opposite, and stared at the floor, her face a mask of embarrassment.
I have to tell you something. Im ashamed, but you deserve to know the truth.
Clara set her pen down and turned her full attention to Sophie, who swallowed hard and began:
Emma has been spreading rumors about you for months now. She tells anyone who will listen that the ideas in your projects are actually hers, that youre stealing her work, that you only got the promotion because youre good at brownnosing the bosses. She says you look down on the rest of us, that you think were all idiots.
Emma? The sister Clara had helped to get a foot in the door, the one she had defended, the one whose mistakes shed quietly corrected? Emma was turning the whole office against her?
Are you sure? Youre not mixing things up? Clara asked, voice tight.
Absolutely. At first I refused to believe it. I thought maybe it was a misunderstanding. But she repeats it to everyone, day after day. People start believing it. And gossip spreads like wildfire. The more outrageous it sounds, the more it sticks.
Clara didnt recall how she left Sophies cramped office and walked to her car. The drive home was a blur of tangled thoughts, each one a buzzing insect.
Later that night Emma opened her flats door, surprise flashing across her face.
Clara? Whats wrong? Something happen? she asked.
Clara stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, turned and stared straight into Emmas eyes.
Why? Emma whispered.
What? Clara pressed.
Why are you turning the whole office against me? Why lie that I steal your ideas? Why spread those rumors? Claras tone was cold, detached.
Emmas shoulders trembled, her face flashed with sudden colour.
Did someone tell you? Emma snapped.
It doesnt matter who! Answer me!
Dont shout at me in my own home! This isnt business!
Im not shouting, Clara. Im demanding answers. How could you do this? Were sisters!
Emma stepped forward, arms crossed, eyes flickering with something Clara had never seen beforeanger, hurt, a strange mix of everything.
You want to know why? Emma shouted, voice cracking like glass. Because Im sick of always being second! In school you were the star, teachers adored you. At university you graduated topofyourclass, while I barely scraped by. At work you get promotions and bonuses, and Im stuck on the same rung! I too want a big salary and the bosss respect. Got it? I want to be first too!
Clara stayed silent while Emmas monologue spilled on, relentless.
You were always ahead. Always perfect. Emmasmart, Emmabeautiful, Emmahardworking. And me? Im just the shadow, the clumsy younger sister who messes everything up!
Then you should have worked harder, Clara finally said. Put in the effort, not spend time watching videos at your desk or gossiping in the kitchen. You wanted respect? Earn it. But dont drag me through the mud for it.
Emma opened her mouth, but Clara cut her off, turned and walked out. The door clicked shut behind her, tears sliding down Claras cheeks as she brushed them away fiercely. Hold on, she thought. Hold on.
The next morning Clara submitted a transfer request to a branch in the suburbs of Manchester. The HR director raised an eyebrow, signed the papers without further questions. Clara was a valuable employee; losing her would have hurt the company. The transfer was approved within two days.
Emma learned of the move through the grapevine, called Clara that evening. Clara stared at the flashing caller ID before answering.
Youre moving? Emma said, tone flat.
Yes.
So youre running away then.
No. Im just going where no one will plot against me behind my back.
Youre betraying me! Traitor! Youre my sister! Emma snapped.
Clara said nothing, hung up. There was nothing left to say.
Three months in the new branch flew by. The team welcomed her warmly, projects ran smoothly, and the nightmare seemed to fade. One night Sophie called.
Clara, have you heard? Emmas been sacked.
Clara froze, phone pressed to her ear.
What?
Last week. She missed deadlines on three contracts, made errors in reports. Management gave her endless chances, then finally let her go. Without you, everything fell apart. Thats how it went
But I didnt
Clara, you were covering her mistakes for years. It went unnoticed because you were there. When you left, everything collapsed. Emma couldnt cope without your safety net.
Clara put the phone down and sat in lingering silence.
The following day Emma appeared at Claras doorstep, hair dishevelled, eyes bloodshot, clothes rumpled. She burst into the hallway and shouted:
Youre happy now! They fired me! You moved just to set me up! Did you do it on purpose?
Clara looked at her calmly.
What am I to blame, Emma? You had a chance to shine. I didnt stop you. What did you do? Ruined everything.
Its you! Youre to blame!
No. Youre the one who caused it. Forget the way back to my flat.
Clara opened the front door wide. Emma froze, disbelief flashing across her face as her sister actually pushed her out. Emma turned and fled down the stairwell, the door slamming shut with a deafening bang.
An hour later their mothers voice burst through the phone.
What are you doing?! Youre responsible for Emmas dismissal! You abandoned her! Selfish! You should have helped, not run off to another office! Youve ruined our family! Mother wailed, accusations tumbling one after another.
Clara tried to explainabout the rumours, the betrayal, Emmas own role in her downfallbut Mother wouldnt listen. She kept shouting, demanding Clara fix everything.
Youve betrayed the family, Clara. Remember that. Youre sinful.
The line clicked dead.
Clara was left alone. The family had turned away the moment she chose selfpreservation over endless sacrifice.
She would manage. Shed always been strong. And now that strength was needed more than ever.
An email from senior management appeared: a promotion to a senior role in London, a new city, a fresh start. If before Clara had hesitated, now she answered with certainty.
When everyone turns away, nothing ties you to the old place. Its time to think only of yourself.
Weeks blurred into a hectic relocation. In London, Clara settled quickly, never looking back, never accommodating. Family ties reduced to polite holiday cards. She no longer felt the sting of love that had been so easily dismissed.
She opened the email again, the subject line reading: Welcome to the Capital New Role, New Salary £80,000. The future stretched ahead, surreal and silent, like a dream that had finally found its exit.
