Chapter 1
was painfully average Gervase, the boy next door, was the kind of genius that comes along once in a generation. My entire life, I had struggled to breathe in the thin air left in the wake of his brilliance
To claw my way into a top–tier university, I waged a nightly war against textbooks, my eyes perpetually bloodshot. And him? He was busy skipping class to romance the most popular girl in school, yet the best unive rsities were still fighting to offer him a spot.
i chained myself to the library, a tireless monk in pursuit of a coveted spot in the graduate program, only to miss it by a single, heart–breaking point. Meanwhile, he’d casually flip through his notes the night before an exam and effortlessly snag the top rank in his department.
Whenever my parents reached the peak of their disappointment with me, they’d twist my ear and spit the words) came to dread: “For God’s sake, just look at Gervase! How can one person be so brilliant, and anoth
et so useless?”
My early life was a long, suffocating eclipse, completely blacked out by Gervase’s shadow. The moment I graduated, I fled my hometown like a bird breaking free from its cage. For three whole years, no matter how hysterical my parents got on the phone, I never once set foot on the path back home.
On New Year’s Eve of the fourth year, I was heading back to my small apartment, plastic bags cutting into my wrists, ready to spend another holiday alone. But there, leaning against my door, was the familiar, infuria- ting silhouette of Gervase. He looked thinner, his frame casting a long shadow in the hallway light. His eyes found mine.
“Why aren’t you home?” he asked, his voice soft.
A storm of emotions churned inside me, but I said nothing. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, his gaze darkening for a second.
“You should go back,” he continued. “Your parents miss you. And so do l
My entire life, I had existed in Gervase’s orbit. He was a star, destined to burn bright wherever he went. He’d breezed through the best high school, skipped a grade, and had elite universities begging for him. Even when he ditched class for a girl, teachers would just chuckle and call him ‘a character.
And me? I was the good girl. I kept my hair brutally short, sacrificed countless nights to my studies, and fought with every ounce of my being just to scrape by the entrance requirements for a decent university.
By the time I started college, Gervase was already a junior. He was already attending high–profile conferences with his professors; I’d even catch glimpses of him on TV, looking confident and impossibly brilliant Each time, it was a cue for my parents‘ tirade. “How can you be so different from Gervase?” “I’ve never lost to his father at anything, but then I had you. You’re my one great shame.” “You make it so I can’t even look his mother in the eye.” Those words were daggers, and they had been piercing my heart for eighteen years.
The day I left for college, I packed my bags in silence, hauled my heavy suitcase to the station, and boarded the train without a single look back. After that, news of Gervase always reached me through the filter of my parents‘ scolding. I knew which famous mentors were vying for him, how many groundbreaking papers he’d published, and even that he’d aced his finals after a single night of casual reading
When I’d hear these things, I’d be hunched over a textbook in the library, its pages a dense forest of my desperate notes. I’d let out a bitter laugh, silence my phone, and flip it face down, trying to drown myself in the ocean of knowledge, to numb the ache.
In my senior year, fate played another one of its cruel jokes. I missed securing my spot in the graduate program by one person. That night, my mother’s sanity finally snapped. She screamed at me over the phone for what felt like an eternity. When I hung up, she sent a torrent of venomous voicemails. “How did I give birth to such a moron! You’re worthless! My life is a tragedy because of you!” Listening to her wails, a final chill settled deep in my bones. After that night, I blocked her number, found a job in a city a thousand miles from home, and for three years, I never went back. Not even for the holidays.
Every New Year’s Eve, I’d lock myself in my apartment, put on a classic movie, and sip a Coke, wondering if the countdown special on TV would be any better this year. My only contact with my parents was the mont- hly bank transfer I sent them. Nothing more.
This year was no different. Or so I thought. As I returned to my apartment, my bags filled with soda, I saw him Gervase. The golden boy of academia, a regular face on television, the word ‘genius‘ practically tattooed on his forehead. He stood there in a tailored suit, a sight that did nothing to quell the deep–seated irritation I felt for him.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice cold.
