I must explain everything here. I’ve had this rivalry with my twin sister, Emily, for as long as I can remember. In my case, it wasn’t just between us. Without even recognizing it, my parents were deliberately pressuring us into it. They’ve always treated Emily like she’s something unique.
I’ll tell you why this occurred. Emily is precisely 12 minutes my senior. You heard correctly: 12 minutes. It seems that’s all it takes to be my family’s golden child. Emily was their miracle baby, the one who could do no wrong. I wasn’t a horrible kid, but she always received the credit for whatever I did.
My first recollection of this partiality dates back to kindergarten. Both of us participated in the school play. I played the main part in Little Red Riding Hood, and Emily got two lines as a flower. During the concert, Emily started crying on stage after forgetting her lines. My parents missed my entire performance as they hurried to console her. Later that evening, they didn’t even recognize my accomplishment. All they could speak about was Emily’s “bravery for trying.”
This pattern persisted for the duration of primary school. If Emily received a C on an exam, she would be told, “Oh, honey, you tried your best.” But if I received consecutive A’s, I would hardly be acknowledged. I recall working on a science fair project about renewable energy for weeks in fourth grade. When I handed my parents the blue ribbon for winning first place, they hardly gave it a glance. “That’s still wonderful,” they said, “but Emily had a difficult day during volleyball practice. Can we discuss this at a later time?” After that, I stopped showing them my honors.
The worst thing was that they made no effort to conceal their partiality. My dad used to make jokes at family get-togethers about how Emily was their “firstborn.” “Emily is our responsible one,” he would remark. “She looks after her younger sister.” I was standing there, listening to them reduce me to Emily’s shadow.
Things started to have a significant psychological impact on me in middle school. I became quite driven to prove myself. I joined as many clubs as I could and studied late into the night. Emily, on the other hand, coasted through, doing very little but somehow receiving more attention.
In eighth grade, I was selected to compete in the state-level mathematics competition. I prepared for months. On the same day as the competition, Emily had a recreational soccer match. In addition to not showing up to help, my parents didn’t even inquire about how I was doing. When I brought home the trophy for second place, all they could speak about was how Emily needed to be cheered up because her team had lost.
High school was more of the same. I took all of my AP classes and kept my GPA at 4.0. Emily spent much of her time at parties and barely kept up a C average. She was still the “fun and social one,” though, and I was criticized for being “too competitive and serious.”
The discrepancy was brought to light during our senior year. Because of my academic accomplishments, I was named valedictorian, accepted on a full scholarship to a top university, and even had an article in the local newspaper. Emily enrolled at community college after barely graduating. However, for the whole of our graduation celebration, my parents bemoaned Emily’s failure to get into her first-choice school. In their address, they made no mention of my accomplishments.
The Revelation
The pivotal moment occurred while attending college. I continued to keep perfect grades while working part-time to support myself. I would return home from every break with the hope that something had changed. Instead, it was “Emily this” and “Emily that.” Somehow, her decision to leave community college after just one semester was interpreted as a sign that she was “brave enough to follow her own path.”
Then, in my junior year, came Thanksgiving break. Everything changed when my uncle, who had always had a slightly excessive love for alcohol, made a mistake. He disclosed that my parents hadn’t even intended to have twins. They were devastated to learn they were expecting two children when they had only intended to have one. My mom had been concerned about how they would manage two babies. However, their method of “figuring it out” was to basically choose a favorite and focus all of their energy on her, which was, of course, Emily, their cherished “firstborn.”
After years of wondering why they didn’t care about my accomplishments, everything suddenly fell into perspective. I was the afterthought, the unexpected addition.
Something in me altered after that realization. I gave up trying to please them. I put all of my attention into creating my own life instead. By the time I graduated, I received several job offers from prestigious tech businesses. I took a job at a promising startup as a software engineer, and after three years, I was promoted to senior developer.
Emily, meanwhile, was organizing a lavish wedding after meeting a wealthy man at a pub. Naturally, my folks were ecstatic. They couldn’t even recall the name of the company I worked for, yet they spent hours on the phone with her, talking about the specifics of the wedding.
The Wedding Fund
The irony was that I was actually doing very well. My company was getting ready for an IPO, and my stock options were worth more than Emily’s fiancé made in a year. They never inquired about my professional background.
It was the wedding fund situation that ultimately crushed my heart. The only one who had ever treated us fairly was our grandmother. She left each of us a sizable sum of money before she died, especially for our upcoming weddings. She had been very explicit that we were to share the money evenly.
Naturally, though, my parents were unable to honor her last desires. Emily wanted a ridiculously lavish wedding. They chose to take from my share of the inheritance rather than urging her to cut back or asking her wealthy fiancé to contribute more. They didn’t even tell me. It wasn’t until months after the wedding that my inebriated uncle—yes, the same one—spoke about it at another family get-together.
When I confronted them about it, they responded angrily. “Oh, honey,” my mother remarked dismissively, “we were going to tell you. Eventually, when we can, we’ll reimburse you.”
Even worse was my father’s reply. “Well, Emily needed it more. She’s the conventional one, getting married, and since you’re so preoccupied with your work, it’s unlikely that you’ll even desire a lavish wedding.”
I felt nothing as I stood in their kitchen, staring at these folks who were meant to be my parents. This deep emptiness, without any sadness or rage. They were unable to even comprehend the wrongness of what they had done.
I returned to my flat that evening and gave my life a lot of thought. I came to see that Emily had eclipsed or completely disregarded every significant turning point in my life.
I did something I should have done years ago. I opened my laptop and emailed them. I am aware of the wedding fund. I am aware that without consulting me, you used my inheritance to pay for Emily’s wedding. The way you’ve treated me throughout my life is more important than the money. You never made an effort to conceal the reality that I was never the daughter you desired. I’m done attempting to win your affection. Do not get in touch with me again unless it is to repay my money.
I felt a tremendous weight lift off my shoulders as I pushed send, banned their numbers, and deleted them from all social media.
The Accident
It has been a life-changing year. I gave my job and personal development my all. Our company’s IPO was a success, and my stock options are now worth more than Emily’s whole wedding expenses. I started therapy, purchased my own home, and formed sincere friendships.
Two weeks ago, everything changed drastically. My phone began ringing with several calls from my uncle. I decided to answer.
“Hey, it’s Uncle Greg,” he began, trembling a little. “I need to discuss your parents with you.” I felt sick to my stomach. “They were involved in an accident, a rather poor one. They are in the medical facility.” He paused. “Their car was struck by a truck that ran a red light. Your dad is in critical condition, and your mom has several fractures. They have spent a few days in the hospital.”
“Days?” I said, raising my voice. “And until now, no one had the idea to tell me?”
“They wanted me to let you know,” he said in a calmer tone. “I believe they want to see you. I believe that’s not all, though. Their insurance is having issues.”
Of course. He went on to tell me that six months prior, my parents had allowed their health insurance to lapse. They had been having financial difficulties due to credit card debt and poor investments. The medical bills were already mounting.
“What about Emily?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
Uncle Greg let out a sigh. “She said she couldn’t assist with the bills. She visited once, immediately following the accident. She didn’t want to ask her husband for money so soon after their honeymoon. She is occupied with her stepchildren, her new family.”
That made me giggle. Typical Emily.
Now that my stock options had vested and I had more than enough money saved to pay for their medical expenses, I was truly in a position to assist them. Did I want to, though?
Three days after Uncle Greg called, Emily texted me. I am aware that you are performing well at work. Parents are in dire need of assistance. This is your opportunity to act morally.
My opportunity to act morally? Where was this moral compass when she was using my inheritance to pay for her wedding?
My parents finally called themselves after a week of internal conflict. Although my mother’s speech was weak, her deceptive methods remained the same. “Sweetheart,” she began, as if the past two years of silence hadn’t occurred, “we’re in a really tough situation here. The expenses might reach $200,000. We acknowledge our shortcomings as parents, but…”
“No, you aren’t,” I interrupted her. “And you never will be. You haven’t gotten in touch with me in two years, and the only reason is that you need money.”
“That’s not fair,” my dad’s voice said. “Your parents are us. Family supports family.”
That statement set me off. “Family helps family?” I said. “When you used my inheritance to pay for Emily’s wedding, where was that feeling? When you missed my college graduation, where were you? Where did you neglect every significant event in my life because you were too preoccupied with showing your admiration for Emily?”
After a brief period of silence, my mother began to cry—those recognizable, cunning tears. “How can you be so cruel? We are in the hospital. Your dad may require surgery. Will you truly desert us at this point?”
I inhaled deeply before uttering the words I had been wishing to say for years. “Yes. In fact, yes, I am. All my life, you emotionally abandoned me. You just thought of me as Emily’s shadow and your fallback option. Now that Emily is refusing to assist, you turn to me. No, I will no longer be your last option.”
“But we’re family,” my father started.
“No,” I cut in. “We’re not. Since you determined that Emily was the only child deserving of your love, we have not been family. I’m finished. Never get in touch with me again.”
After hanging up, I blocked their numbers once more. I then texted Emily one last time, saying, “They’re also your parents. Try it yourself.”
The Confrontation
Three days ago, my life took yet another drastic change. My doorbell rang at precisely 8:07 p.m. I froze, staring through the peephole. Emily was standing there, looking like the affluent trophy wife she had become, complete with a fashionable gown, flawless makeup, and a $15,000 Hermès Birkin purse. I was aware of the irony: that bag alone could have paid for a sizable amount of our parents’ medical expenses.
I opened the door, leaning against the door frame. “Well, if it isn’t my dear sister. What brings you to my humble abode?”
Without waiting for an invitation, she swept by me. Her gaze swept across my living area, taking in the original artwork, the contemporary furnishings, and the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Nice place,” she said, in a tone that suggested the exact opposite. “Very cozy.”
“Stop wasting your time, Emily. Why have you come here?”
She turned to me. “Mom and Dad are deteriorating. Mom’s physical treatment isn’t covered, and Dad needs emergency surgery. Unless they can provide proof of payment, the hospital threatens to suspend treatment. They are discussing selling the house.”
“And that’s my problem because…?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Because you can help them,” she said, her immaculate exterior beginning to falter. “I am aware that your business went public. I checked the pricing of the stocks. I conducted research. You’ve got the cash.”
That made me giggle. “Oh, you have been monitoring me. How intriguing. Did you do this much research before using my inheritance to pay for your wedding? Or prior to your own refusal to assist them?”
“Where is your wealthy husband, Emily?”
Her face turned red. “That’s different,” she stammered. “I now have a new family. I have obligations. Stepchildren. James and I have our own financial plans. When a family situation arises, I can’t just throw money at it.”
“Can’t just what?” I interrupted her with a strong voice. “Can’t you simply assist your parents, who have given you everything? Who paid for your wedding with my inheritance? Who prioritizes you the most? Who didn’t attend my college graduation to assist you with your apartment move? Those parents?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “That’s history. This is about right now. You’re being selfish, and they need help.”
Her use of the word “selfish” was the last straw. I went silently to my home office, picked up my laptop, and a few papers, and then went back to the living room. “Emily, would you like to discuss money? Let’s have a conversation.”
I rotated the screen of my portfolio dashboard in her direction. “Look at these figures. My stock options. I’ll explain it to you in words you can comprehend: this is more valuable than your husband, James, will be in three years. That home of which you’re so proud? If I wanted to, I could pay cash for it tomorrow.”
As she gazed at the numbers, her face turned white.
I went on, bringing up papers such as my investment portfolio and my pay stubs.
“But… but you’re a tech worker,” she stumbled. “You’re just a programmer.”
“Emily, I’m now a senior development director. I was making something for myself while you and your wealthy husband were playing house. I also did it without treading on anyone else, unlike you.” I clicked firmly to shut down my laptop. “Without using any of my resources, I could assist Mom and Dad by covering their medical expenses. However, I won’t.”
“You’re being cruel,” she murmured, but I could see that she realized her younger sister had outwitted her.
“No. It is terrible to stand by and do nothing while your sister is ignored her entire life. Cruel is stealing her inheritance. Cruel only shows up at her door when you’re in need.” I approached the door and pulled it open. “Are we finished here? Don’t return.”
Clutching her pricey purse like a shield, she stood there. She made one final attempt to say, “You’ll regret this,” but her voice lacked its usual assurance.
“My only regret is that I didn’t cut you all off sooner. Goodbye, Emily.”
I poured myself another glass of wine after she left, a $200 bottle I had been putting away for a special occasion. This one felt like it. I felt totally free for the first time in my life. No more living in Emily’s shadow.
My phone was inundated with notifications the following morning. Apparently, Emily had spent the night phoning every member of the family to tell them how I had “changed.”
In response, I shared a comprehensive folder with the family group chat. It included scanned copies of my inheritance documents, bank statements that revealed how my money was used for Emily’s wedding, and text messages from Emily stating that she would not assist with the medical bills. After that, the family conversation became very silent.
Our cousin Angela was the only one to reply. Holy crap. You actually did it, didn’t you? In fact, you were successful on your own.
I worked on my future plans over the course of the following few days. I accepted the promotion in another state. I put my apartment up for sale. I’ve already begun searching for real estate in my new city.
Emily sent me one last text last night: Mom’s crying every night because of you.
I commented, She had years to cry about how she treated me, and included a screenshot of my inheritance paperwork in my response. Her tears are no longer effective.
After that, I blocked her number and all of my other family contacts. It felt like closing the last chapter of a book I should have finished years ago.
Recently, I received a message questioning if achieving financial success was worth sacrificing my family. The truth is, though, that I didn’t lose any folks who never treated me like family in the first place. I broke free from them. My achievement just gave me the courage to refuse their treatment. It didn’t change who I am.