LOVE IN DISGUISE

Standing in front of my dresser mirror, I was trying out a dress I bought from the mall a week ago. I'm a regular at the mall, always on the lookout for the latest trends and must-haves. My friends even joke that I should have my own personal shopping cart, considering how often I'm there. But hey, retail therapy is a thing, right? The problem is, my wardrobe is now bursting at the seams, and I'm running out of space to hang my new purchases.

As I twirled around, admiring the dress from different angles, I tripped on my own foot and landed on my butt with a thud. I stood up hurriedly, but my head spun, and I felt dizzy. I hadn't eaten lunch, and I often forget to eat altogether. It's not something I'm proud of, but I've struggled with anorexia for a while now. It's a constant battle, and some days are harder than others.

I lay down on my bed, letting out a loud groan of frustration. What do I do now? I'm bored out of my mind, and my usual distractions aren't cutting it. Watching movies and scrolling through Instagram, stalking hot celebrities and models, only goes so far. And by "so far," I mean until my mom barges into my room and catches me ogling half-naked men. That's always embarrassing.

I need something more, something exciting to shake off this monotony. But what? I've tried reading, but my attention span is shorter than ever. I've tried drawing, but my skills are lacking, to say the least. I've even tried cooking, but let's just say my creations are better suited for the trash can.

As I lay there, feeling sorry for myself, I hear my stomach growl. Maybe I should eat something. But what? And then I remember the dress I was trying on.

At the slight ping of my phone, I dropped the dress I was holding and took my phone, eager to see who was messaging me. I replied to a few messages here and there, my thumbs flying across the screen as I chatted with my friends. Just then, someone knocked on my door, and I saw a head popping in as I raised my head. I knew it wasn't my mother because she didn't need permission before she barged into my room - ugh, that woman! She always seemed to appear at the most inconvenient times, like she had a sixth sense for knowing when I was doing something I shouldn't be.

Smiling at the person in front of me, I flopped onto my bed as my sister, Mira, made her way into my room and shut the door behind her. "Mira" I said, taking in the sight of my sister. She stood there in her 5'0" auburn-haired, green-eyed, model-figure glory, looking like she just stepped off the cover of a magazine. I still remembered when I was younger and everyone used to fawn over her beauty. Hell, I nearly lost it when she got offers from the modeling industry, but I made my peace with it. After all, someone had to be the "ugly sister" in the family.

Mira plopped down beside me on the bed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "What's up, sis?" she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Don't you have a modelling gig to go for? Shouldn't you be in Paris anyway?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Mira travels all the time for her modeling career, and I was surprised she was still in town. Instead of answering, she dropped her suitcase and plopped down on my bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Didn't feel like going," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. I chuckled, knowing that Mira's moods could change faster than the wind. "Where's Mum and Dad?" she asked, her eyebrows arching in curiosity.

"Out of the country," I replied, shrugging. "But they'll probably be back in a couple of hours." Mira nodded her head in understanding, her gaze drifting around my room.

"Ok, sis, I have to go now. I'm starving," she said, jumping up from the bed. "I'm prepping spaghetti. Would you like some?" she asked, already heading towards the door.

"Yes, please," I said, thankful I didn't have to cook. Don't get me wrong, I love cooking... sometimes. But today, I just couldn't muster up the energy. Besides, Mira's cooking was always better than mine.

As Mira disappeared into the kitchen, I heard the sound of pots and pans clanging, followed by the savory aroma of sizzling meat and tomatoes. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I settled back onto my bed, feeling grateful for my sister's company.

A few minutes later, Mira called me to come eat, and boy, was that food delicious! The aroma of freshly cooked spaghetti filled the air, making my stomach growl with anticipation. I savored each bite, enjoying the warmth and comfort of my sister's cooking.

Just as we finished eating, I went back and arranged the rest of my clothing when I heard Mom scream like a giddy teenage girl, "Girls!" I hurriedly put my clothes away before strutting downstairs and saw Mira hugging my mom, and I also joined in, wrapping my arms around both of them.

Just then, my father emerged from the front door, and I felt a mix of emotions. "Dad!" I squealed, trying to sound enthusiastic, and went to hug him. But, as usual, my dad was never cheery with me. I once overheard him talking to Mom, scratch that, they were screaming at each other, my dad telling my mom he never wanted a girl as a first child and I was a mistake. It hurts, I'm not gonna lie, some days I cry myself to sleep.

He gently patted my back, and smiled, but the smile wasn't reaching his eyes. "How are you?" he asked, his voice distant. "I'm good," I said, removing myself from him, trying to hide the hurt. I didn't want to make a scene, not today, not ever. I just wanted to pretend everything was fine, even when it wasn't.

Mira, sensing the tension, jumped in, chatting excitedly about her latest modeling gig, trying to distract us from the awkwardness.

As usual, Dad was happily chatting with Mira, leaving me standing alone, feeling like an outsider in my own family. He had his favorite, Mira, and I wasn't jealous, or at least I tried not to be. It just hurt, knowing that I could never measure up to her in his eyes.

After they had settled down, my father called me into his office, and I was shocked. We were never one to have a father-daughter conversation, at least not one that didn't involve him criticizing me or telling me what I was doing wrong. I quickly went up to his office, not wanting to annoy him or give him a reason to yell at me.

I knocked on the door softly, and I heard a rough voice, "Come in." I stood at the door, hesitating for a moment, before he motioned me to enter. I sat on a leather chair in front of him, trying to appear confident, but my heart was racing.

"You asked for me?" I said, trying to sound calm.

"Yes, Ava," he cleared his throat, and I knew that was a bad sign. He only used my full name when he was about to lecture me or tell me something I didn't want to hear.

"You're done with uni, right?" He asked me rhetorically, because he knows damn well that I have. I nodded my head slowly, feeling a sense of dread wash over me.

"Then you know what's next for you to do," he said calmly, but I knew that was the calm before the storm.

"The business?" I asked, looking around the room, hoping someone would intervene, but I was alone. He leaned forward, his eyes piercing.

"Yes, and something else," he said, his voice low and serious. I dreaded what he was about to say next, my mind racing with possibilities.

"My first child is supposed to inherit my company when I grow old," he started, his voice laced with disappointment. "I thought you were going to be a boy, but life has other plans," he sighed, shaking his head.

I felt a knot in my stomach, knowing that I was a disappointment to him. Nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

"You're getting married," he said, his words dropping like a bombshell.