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Naira was working on her college project, but her mind was somewhere else. She had another bad day, and all she wanted was to be alone. But her phone kept ringing, flashing Anya’s name for the seventh time. Frustrated and angry, she answered the call.
Losing her cool Naira snarled, “Anya, I don’t have time for your nonsense. I told you I am busy. I can’t keep talking to you all day. I am not nine and you are not four anymore.” She hung up without giving her sister a chance to speak.
Naira had moved to a new city for college, away from her family. Like any confused teenager, Naira wanted to be popular. She wanted to be ‘cool’. She wouldn’t even mention Anya to her friends because popular girls don’t talk about their family, especially if it includes an annoying younger sister.
Despite all of her attempts, Naira couldn’t become what she wanted to—someone everyone knew and admired. Eventually, Naira gave up her obsession to fit in.
After one long year, Naira went home. The house was empty when she reached. Her parents had left the keys with the neighbours and a message they would be back soon.
It was a walk down memory lane. Naira recalled their childhood days when Anya was like her shadow; she would copy Naira—the way she dressed to the way she talked and walked.
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