The Twin They Forgot

When Daniel and Melissa's marriage imploded, Grace and I were ten.

They fought wildly in family court for Grace, screaming until they were blue in the face. Then, the judge looked down from the bench and asked about my custody.

Crickets. Total, suffocating silence.

They eventually agreed to split time. In a thirty-one-day month, they meticulously counted hours, practically drawing blood to see who got Grace for the 31st day. I was just the invisible ghost taking up space in the backseat.

Now that we are eighteen, I've secured a full scholarship to Harvard. While they toast to Grace's adulthood in a room full of guests, my bag is packed.

My flight to Boston leaves in two hours. It's a one-way ticket.

Zoey's POV

"Look, Melissa, there are thirty-one days this month. Grace's dance class is on Thursday, so she stays with me!" Daniel's voice cut through the drywall, hard and final.

"Don't even try it, Daniel. You got her an extra day last month. Day sixteen is mine." Melissa slammed her coffee mug onto the granite counter so hard I winced.

At the kitchen island, I kept my head down, peeling a hard-boiled egg. My thumbnail caught the egg white, tearing a jagged chunk away.

Since the divorce, they held this same screaming match once a month. They haggled over my twin sister like she was a limited-edition prize, splitting her schedule down to the hour.

Once Daniel finally secured his extra day with Grace, the argument stalled. It was as if they suddenly remembered they had a second child.

"Well, what about Zoey?" Daniel's voice suddenly dropped. "Who gets her for the extra day?"

The house went dead silent. Nobody moved.

"I have a massive pitch with a client this week. I might have to fly out of state," Melissa mumbled, desperate to pawn me off on him.

"Give me a break. That ‘client' is just your new boyfriend," Daniel scoffed. "I'm taking Grace to Disney this weekend. Zoey can't come. She'll just ruin the vibe."

I crushed the egg in my fist. Cold yellow yolk squeezed between my fingers.

Ruin the vibe.

"You can't keep dumping her on me! She's your daughter, too!" Melissa's pitch hitched—not to defend me, but because the thought of being stuck with me genuinely annoyed her.

"Then leave her at the apartment! She's practically eighteen. She can microwave her own meals for a weekend."

"Whatever! I won't be here anyway!"

Keys jingled. The front door slammed hard enough to rattle the hinges.

Daniel blew out a heavy breath. His boots pivoted on the hardwood, marching straight to Grace's bedroom.

"Hey, sweetie," his voice instantly flipped to thick, sugary devotion. "Daddy's taking you to Disney this weekend. What do you say? Which dress do you want to pack?"

"Oh my god, yes! You're the best, Dad! I'm totally bringing the white one!" Grace shrieked.

Her cheer pierced my eardrums like a needle.

I dumped the crushed egg into the trash and scrubbed my hands under the faucet. I kept the water freezing cold until my knuckles turned red.

Back in my room, I pulled a notebook from my desk drawer. The margins were filled with a countdown to my eighteenth birthday.

Three months and five days.

I took a red pen, pressed the tip hard against the paper, and slashed a thick line through the next number.

Years ago, listening to them pass me back and forth would have made me hide under the covers and cry until I threw up. I used to overcompensate—scrubbing the kitchen floors, getting straight A's—just praying they would look at me the way they looked at Grace.

But I was done trying.

Staring out the window at the blinding L.A. sun, I only had one plan. Harvard's early decision results were dropping this week. A full-ride scholarship was my only way to Boston. Two thousand miles away from this house.

Late that evening, Daniel rapped his knuckles on my door.

"So, I'm taking Grace out of town for the weekend, and your mom's MIA," he said, lingering in the doorway. He avoided my eyes, staring at a poster on the wall behind me.

He fished his wallet from his jeans and tossed a crumpled fifty-dollar bill onto my desk. "Here's fifty bucks. Figure out your own food for the next couple of days, okay?"

Fifty bucks. In Los Angeles, that barely covered two decent takeout orders. Meanwhile, VIP passes and hotels for Grace would easily cost thousands.

"Got it," I said, my face completely blank.

Daniel visibly dropped his shoulders. He had braced himself for a fight, or for me to beg to go with them.

"You're a big girl now. Good time to learn some independence," he said. He gave my shoulder two quick, awkward pats and turned away, practically jogging down the hall.

I stared at the empty doorway, a bitter ache tightening my chest. Independence. What a joke. You don't "learn" independence. You're just forced into it the second you realize your parents don't give a damn about you.

By Saturday afternoon, the apartment was totally empty.

I sat at my desk, chewing the inside of my cheek as I aggressively hit refresh on the Harvard admissions portal. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Grace had just posted an Instagram Story.

I tapped the icon.

A video filled the screen: Grace twirling in front of Cinderella's Castle, wearing custom Mickey ears. The camera panned to Daniel. He held a massive bunch of balloons and flashed a bright, wide smile. A real dad-smile. The kind I hadn't seen directed at me in eight years.

At the bottom of the screen, she typed: Best weekend with the best Dad! ❤️ Just the two of us!

I looked away from the screen, staring at the crumpled fifty-dollar bill sitting next to my Styrofoam cup of instant ramen. My throat seized. My eyes stung, but I blinked hard, forcing the tears back.

No. They don't get to see me cry. Not anymore.

I shoved the phone face-down onto the mattress and turned back to my laptop.

Refresh.

The screen blinked. The portal updated.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I held my breath and clicked the unread status update.

Dear Zoey, Congratulations! We are thrilled to offer you admission to...

I skipped the paragraph. My eyes franticly scanned the text until I found the financial aid attachment at the bottom.

Fully Funded.

I let out a sharp bark of a laugh. I slapped a hand over my mouth.

I did it. I didn't need a single dime from Daniel or Melissa. I was free.

I hit print. When the warm paper slid out of the machine, I grabbed it with shaking hands and folded it into my countdown notebook.

Walking out into the quiet living room, I stopped in front of the fireplace. A framed family portrait hung above the mantle. Inside the frame, Daniel, Melissa, and Grace stood shoulder-to-shoulder, smiling at the camera. I stood slightly off to the side, my arms crossed, looking like a neighbor's kid who had photobombed them.

An unwanted afterthought.

"Goodbye," I said to the empty room.

When I packed my bags and walked out the door, it would probably take them three days to even notice my bedroom was empty.

But I couldn't wait to see their faces when they realized I was never coming back.