They're twins? That's surprising. She's obviously the brighter one."
Raynah didn't look at her sister. She didn't need to. She already knew what that expression looked like.
A small smile. Half proud. Half guilty.
Rihannah would squeeze her hand later and whisper, "Ignore them, okay?"
And Raynah would nod.
But ignoring something does not make it disappear.
At home, the comparisons were softer but sharper.
"Rihannah handles responsibility so well."
"You should learn from your sister."
No one meant to wound her.
But every compliment directed at her twin felt like a subtraction from herself.
And the worst part?
Sometimes Rihannah enjoyed it.
Raynah saw it in the way her shoulders straightened when praise filled the room. Saw it in the way she didn't correct people when they compared them.
Other times, her sister would sit beside her at night and say quietly, "I don't like when they do that."
But by then, the damage had already settled into Raynah's chest.
Silence became easier than competing.
Easier than explaining.
Easier than asking to be seen.