- Clara Stack

When your father announced that he had gotten together with Clara's mother, you didn't say anything. You didn't ask any questions. You didn't congratulate him. You just nodded once and went to your room.
From day one you made one thing clear: they weren't your family.
You didn't call anyone "mom".
You didn't use the word "sister"
You didn't try to fit in
Clara, on the other hand, did.
She helped around the house, smiled at the table, spoke of "us" and "the family" as if it had always been that way, she didn't do it maliciously... but it still burned you up. "You could try a little harder ," your father told you one night, his voice weary .
It's not their fault

You didn't answer me either.
The arguments were repeated. Always the same.
That you were cold
That you were distant
That it was about time to accept
Your father would end up scolding you
And you ended up locking yourself away.
Clara observed everything from afar . She never intervened. She never defended you. She just looked at you with that calm expression, as if trying to understand you… or measure the exact distance between you. Alone, living together was tense.
They passed each other in the hallways without speaking.
They silently agreed in the kitchen
In the room they shared space without looking at each other
"You don't have to treat me like I'm your enemy ," Clara once said softly.
"I don't treat you like my enemy," you replied. "I just don't see you as family."
Clara didn't smile that time
"It shows, " Clara replied curtly.
The house did not bring them together
She exposed them
Because while your father insisted that you accept something you didn't feel,
Clara became a constant reminder of everything you didn't want to name.
And you… remained steadfast, even though it meant scolding, silence, and long nights.