Love Blindfolds My Eyes

The year Daisy Jennings was brought back by our parents, we had both just turned 15.

That day, she was dressed in a plain and faded dress. Her hair looked dry and frizzy. She had a slender and petite figure, yet was blessed with a pair of big, bright eyes.

She seemed dejected, yet was quite beautiful. Her facial features strongly resembled those of my parents, who had always doted on me.

My gentle mother, with tear-stains still visible on her face, held her left hand. Meanwhile, my kind father, his face beaming with the joy of regaining something precious, held her right hand.

As I habitually ran downstairs to greet my parents, the sight of this harmonious family trio stung my eyes.

Awkwardly, I perched on the staircase, torn between retreating and pressing on, my future's ambiguity mirrored in this moment of indecision.

The frantic patter of footsteps jerked their focus squarely onto me.

"Clara, this is Daisy. She's just three days older than you, and from now on, she'll be your sister," my father said with a smile, gently nudging the girl beside him forward.

"Clara, Daisy has been through a lot these years. It wasn't easy for her to finally come back home. You two should get along well," My mother admonished me, her voice still laced with sobs.

I nodded reluctantly, wanting to turn and head upstairs, unwilling to be part of this emotional scene that felt unrelated to me.

"Clara, wait," a soft yet unfamiliar voice called out to me.

It was her, Daisy.

She let go of our parents' hands and ascended the stairs, approaching me step by step. Her gaze was pure and clear, fixed on me with an earnestness that shied away from nothing.

There was no resentment as if I'd usurped her place, nor a hint of the kind of triumphant challenge like a queen returning to the throne. All I could see was a tenderness I couldn't yet fathom.

She opened her arms and embraced me, a sudden gesture that made me shiver involuntarily.

"Clara, I am here now, and I'll always protect you," she said, her words as bewildering as her actions.

Despite her slender and slight frame, she possessed a strength I couldn't resist. She hugged me so tightly that I couldn't even summon the energy to push her away and call her names.

Her dry, frizzy strands brushed against my cheeks, and I could feel the warmth and flush spreading across my face.

"Seeing Daisy and Clara getting along so well, we can finally be at ease," our parents said with relief as they watched us embrace.

I didn't believe I could get along with her; her actions didn't win me over but made me dislike her even more.

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, pampered by my parents for 15 years, only to find out I wasn't their biological daughter. Their real daughter was someone else, and I was just a stranger's child, mistakenly taken home.

My biological parents were nowhere to be found, and my sister had been abandoned by them, only to be taken in and raised by a kind-hearted elderly couple from a rural village.

Once my parents' biological daughter came back home, I still stayed with the family. This was because I couldn't find my birth parents, and my adoptive parents couldn't bear to part with the child they had cherished for 15 years.

Their affection for me hadn't diminished much, but a significant portion was now directed towards Daisy.

Daisy was a rather odd person. At first, I thought the hug she gave on the day she returned home was merely a show for our parents. I was constantly on guard, fearing she might do me harm.

But even when our parents weren't around, she remained unchanged.

Her eyes were filled with gentle and lingering affection when she looked at me. She spoke to me in a soft, tender voice, paying no heed to my cold demeanor.

Having seen so many classic tales of identity mix-ups and family feuds on TV and in novels, I was convinced she had ulterior motives. I was on guard, yet she never tried to undermine me.

The more patient she was with me, the more rebellious I became during my teenage years.

Since she wouldn't make a move against me, I had no choice but to take steps to protect myself.

To ensure we could support each other, our parents arranged for Daisy to study in the same school and class as me.

Her background was somewhat known among our classmates. Although she was the real daughter, having come from the countryside, the proud and noble students still looked down on her.

Naturally, Daisy was isolated, and I led the charge.

I not only painted her as pretending to be sweet and innocent in front of our classmates but also incited those who prided themselves on justice to verbally and physically confront her.

Daisy faced countless acts of bullying at school, from having her books torn to being cornered in the girls' restroom and falsely accused of cheating.

She faced her classmates' bullying with unyielding dignity, neither compromising nor bowing her head. But whenever her gaze turned to me, the unfading tenderness in her eyes always made me too shy to meet her look.

Her clothes were always dirty, and her hair often left in disarray by others.

When our parents asked, she never mentioned the bullying she endured, in which I played a significant role as her so-called sister.

To avoid worrying them, she always told them that school was fine.

Daisy's inexplicable endurance only made me more uneasy and agitated.

I was the impostor, and she was the rightful heiress. I lived in constant fear of being cast out of this home, while she'd always belong here, no matter what.

I truly couldn't fathom why she was so forbearing towards me. The kinder she was, the more I resented her.

This bullying continued for a semester. The classmates who bullied her gradually lost patience, and as she adapted to life in the wealthy family, the so-called country bumpkin vibe faded, and her excellent academic performance gradually won everyone over.

Everyone eventually accepted Daisy, except for me.