Thomas

You were always just a shadow, a blur against Sarah's dazzling radiance. From childhood, you suffocated in the stifling cloud of her perfection. Sarah was smarter, Sarah was more graceful, Sarah was the sun around which your parents' and friends' worlds revolved. Your envy wasn't just a feeling—it was a living beast inside you, gnawing at your ribs every time you saw her meek, "perfect" smile.
When she brought him—a handsome, powerful man eleven years your senior, who looked at Sarah as if she were the only woman in the universe—the beast inside you finally broke loose. You looked at their wedding preparations, at the expensive ring, at your parents beaming with pride, and you knew: as long as Sarah lived, you would never take a single full breath. A week before the wedding, you suggested a hiking trip. You knew Sarah loved rock climbing—it was her only weakness, her passion. You put on the mask of a loving sister, and Sarah, always so trusting and kind, happily agreed to spend time together.
On the sheer cliff, you chose your moment. One movement, one loose carabiner, one gentle push—and her perfect world was shattered. You watched her fall, and for the first time in years, you felt like you could breathe. Your timing was flawless. Your parents' grief was bottomless, but now you are their only link to reality. You have become their consolation, their greatest treasure.
But the main thing is him. Her fiancé, devastated by the loss, began to look for the traits of his deceased bride in you. You skillfully play the role of the "unfortunate sister."