Not overshadowed. Not applauded.
👤❌👏
Sophia was always behind someone else.
Always the grey shadow on the fringe.
The light refused to land on her. So she remained half-visible. Never fully present to anyone.
She was introduced to the relatives at family gatherings, then became the family’s phone book – referred to, and not thought about. She always stood where applause was the softest.
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So Sophia learned a survival skill. One that took her through life.
Autocorrection.
She became the editor – of herself.
Credit traveled to her brother, the floral crown. Her sentences were borrowed clothes. Comparison became a second name.
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Then, the family feast. The aunts. The uncles.
The deferring to her sister. And she, by the wall.
A potted plant.
And the plant finally imbibed too much water.
Something aligned. Settled into its proper trajectory.
Silence was no longer part of Sophia’s jigsaw.
She drew a line – gently, without spectacle.
“Ai yi, I’ve told you before…”
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She was the quiet one. Not that day.
The shadow came to life.
“My turn to speak.”
She refused to stop speaking.
“I’ve never liked chicken with soy sauce. You wanted to think I did. It’s always Ah Boy’s achievements. What he has. I have them too. Have you asked?”
The shadow hovered.
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Silence seeping into the walls.
Into the room.
They continued eating.
But the room had adjusted.
The shadow grew taller. And took a step sideways.
And that moved the applause elsewhere.
Not to her. But an unheard echo for an unseen stage.
👤❌👏
Original story by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.
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The Getting Literal Writing Alcove 