The sound of rolling suitcases echoed through Terminal 3, a drumbeat of judgment. “Move faster, Mia,” my father barked, his voice sharp enough to slice through the crowd. “You’re holding us up.
Again.”
I bit my tongue and stepped aside as my stepsister, Laya, strutted past. Her designer heels clicked on the polished floor, a countdown to my humiliation. She tossed her glossy blonde hair back and smirked.
“Maybe she’s nervous,” she said, glancing at me with mock pity. “It’s probably her first time seeing a plane up close.”
My father chuckled, not even trying to hide his disdain. “She can’t afford economy, Laya.
Don’t expect her to know how airports work.”
Laughter followed. Heads turned. Heat burned my cheeks, but I didn’t say a word.
I just adjusted the strap of my old backpack and stared at the giant glass windows, where planes gleamed under the morning sun. They were flying first-class to New York for a family celebration I was technically invited to but never truly wanted at. Laya lifted her boarding pass with a triumphant grin.
“First-class boarding, Daddy. We’ll have champagne before takeoff.” She looked at me and said, “Enjoy that.”
“Don’t be bitter,” she added with a roll of her eyes. “Some of us just make better life choices.”
That one stung.
Two years ago, I’d made a choice: I walked away from my father’s company after he married a woman only five years older than me and handed her daughter, Laya, everything I had built. Now they stood there, all smiles and status, while I was the outsider with a worn suitcase and a quiet face. “Do us a favor,” my father said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Try not to embarrass the family name. People talk.”
I looked him dead in the eye. “People always talk, Dad.
It’s what they say later that matters.”
Before he could reply, the loudspeaker announced boarding for their flight. They gathered their bags and headed for the gate. Laya turned, smirking over her shoulder.
“See you in coach—if you can even afford the ticket.”
They laughed as they walked away. I watched them disappear into the gate tunnel, my chest tight but my expression steady. Around me, travelers rushed past—families hugging, businessmen scrolling, children crying.
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