My Sister Stole My Boyfriend and My Fame

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The day our couple's account passed ten million followers,

a woman in pajamas walked past the livestream camera.

The comment feed exploded,

everyone demanding to know if Stanley Gilbert was cheating.

I came back in with two coffees, the dress they'd custom-made for the livestream spattered with mud,

about to step in and explain that the woman was my sister,

when Stanley caught my arm.

“Shar, let Sophie Butler stand in for you on camera.”

“You've got social anxiety anyway. Five years and you've shown your face three times. We're losing followers too fast.”

I looked at his face and said nothing,

just set the coffee bag down.

By the time I looked up again, Stanley already had Sophie by the hand, clearing things up for the feed.

A paid comment shot to the top.

“Quick, both of you name three ways the other one loves you.”

Sophie answered without a second's thought.

“He knows I drink a latte with light ice and just a little sugar on sunny days, and a hot cappuccino when it rains.”

“He tells me a bedtime story every night, never the same one twice.”

“He always keeps my hair tie within reach.”

Stanley propped his chin on his hand and smiled at her, soft.

Behind me, one of the assistants patted my shoulder.

“Don't read too much into it, Shar. Stuff like that's easy to just make up.”

I stood there listening to the livestream loop Sophie's favorite love song,

bent down, tore open the paper bag, and lifted out the warm cappuccino.

And one step at a time, I walked toward the camera.

......

The assistant grabbed my wrist, shaking her head hard.

By then the feed had turned. Line after line of shipping them so hard kept refreshing.

Another paid comment jumped to the top.

“You look even prettier than last time, no wonder Stan loves you so much.”

Sophie turned to Stanley with a smile.

“So do you like me more now that I'm pretty, or before, when I was ugly?”

It sounded like a joke,

but the manager and assistants in the room all knew the truth.

The air went strange,

and every one of them stole a look at my face.

Only Stanley noticed nothing, his gaze resting on Sophie's fair cheek, gentle and fixed.

“You were lovely before. You're even better now.”

The air-conditioning slid down under my collar,

cold enough to leave me shivering.

The two assistants leaned together, whispering.

“Sure, Shar's amazing at scripts and shooting, but she's honestly not as pretty as Sophie.”

“Might as well say the honest truth on the livestream. Between a sunny, cheerful, adorable sister and a gloomy, withdrawn one, who's going to like the older one? Just thinking about it turns your stomach.”

Turns your stomach. Such a familiar phrase.

The first time someone pointed at my face and called me a rat in a dark, damp sewer, the way I kept my head down all day and never spoke,

it was Stanley who caught my arm.

“Being introverted and quiet isn't a crime. The ones in the wrong are the people bullying you with words.”

“Shar, I'll be different from people like that.”

And he really was different.

He was the one who encouraged me to step out, who never laughed at how lost I got.

The camera was on Stanley, one hand holding Sophie's, a pink hair tie looped around his wrist,

answering the comments in earnest.

“Right, Soph's gotten so much brighter. Of course I like her more, cheerful and outgoing like this.”

I finally pulled my wrist free of the grip,

crossed the two steps to the front of the backdrop,

ignored every look on every face,

and set the two coffees down in front of them.

“The coffee you wanted.”

Stanley's face went green in an instant, no covering it up,

and for a beat the followers' comments seemed to freeze,

then came wave after wave of questions, all of them asking the same thing.