When Amy was born, the midwife told her mother she’d be a lucky baby. And until Amy turned five, she truly was happy: her mum braided her hair and read her picture books, only occasionally getting frustrated when Amy refused to remember the alphabet. Her dad taught her to cycle and took her to their countryside cottage, even letting her steer the car down the dirt roads.
When she turned five, her parents announced that Amy would soon have a little brother.
“He’ll be your birthday present.”
The present arrived just in time for her birthday, casting a shadow over all her future celebrations: from day one, Tom claimed a special place in the family. First for being the baby, and then for being a prodigy.
Tom learned to read before Amy, who still read like a kindergartner even at twenty (these days, they’d call it dyslexia, but back then, Amy was simply placed in a special class). Tom’s math skills astonished the math teacher so much she rushed to call Professor John Smith without a second thought. Tom also penned poetry that, while unique, was truly original.
This marked the end of Amy’s bliss: she not only got to share her birthday with her brother, but her entire life now revolved around him. She was the one who escorted him to school, English classes, the swimming pool, and Professor John Smith. Venturing to try a home economics club for herself, Amy’s mum reacted with outrage:
“Do you expect me to give up my job to take Tom to his lessons and music school? You’re always just thinking about yourself!”
Amy caved. But whenever she managed to juggle her brother’s complex schedule, prepared two dinners (Tom decided on vegetarianism at six, while her dad couldn’t go without meat), or earned money by walking the neighbors’ dogs, her mum praised her with a tender pat on her cropped head.
Her hair was cut because her mum no longer had time to braid it, with mornings given to doing English practice with Tom or jotting down his nighttime verses. Amy, struggling to make a neat ponytail, earned frequent teacher notes in her journal. Her mum disliked the notes and took her to a hairdresser’s for a short, neat cut, though Amy sobbed through the night for her missing plaits.
“Finish school, and you can do as you please”, her mum would say as Amy attempted to protest against her endless tasks tied to Tom. “Does it matter? You don’t do anything anyway, just read your recipe books.”
Post-school, nothing changed, even for Amy or Tom. Beyond fixing his nutrient-rich breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, ironing and washing his clothes, and other house chores, Amy became like his secretary. She managed his calendar, tracking competitions and sorted his mail. Upon expressing a desire to work at a dog shelter, both parents and Tom reprimanded her for thinking of abandoning him.
And Amy surrendered once again.
Only once did she rebel against the usual unfairness—when she met Ben.
Ben wasn’t handsome—tall and broad, he spent hours coding at his computer. Family gifted him a dog, hoping it would get him outside. Instead, he hired Amy to walk it—this is how they met. In no time, after walking his dog, Amy began staying overnight at his place.
Her mum would call, demanding her return—she loathed ironing shirts, essentials for Tom. Tom too called, whining about unsharpened pencils and lack of food, as their dad had bought pastries and their mum was on yet another diet.
“Leave me alone!” Amy would yell. “I’m not your servant!”
Ben would kiss her tearful eyes, promising marriage someday. Then he left for America on a lucrative job offer.
“Sorry,” was all he said.
When it was announced that Tom had won an award, her parents could barely hold their pride—it spread through the neighborhood, her mum rushed to the beauty salon, and her dad was keen on the monetary prize, hoping to buy a new car with Tom’s generosity.
Amy’s duties increased: alongside typical chores, she managed hectic correspondence, booked flights, sourced hotels with pools and vegetarian menus. Exhausted, when they arrived and everything was ready—tuxedo, speech, audience in the hall—Amy kissed her brother’s cheek backstage and headed out to find a seat her parents had saved.
A tall usher blocked her way, saying,
“Service staff aren’t allowed in there.”
“What?” Amy didn’t comprehend.
“Wait backstage for your employer,” a younger security guard added, with a smug look. “No place for such tatty clothes there.”
Amy glanced at her worn dress; she simply hadn’t had time to change. Yet, everything implied she was seen as part of the service staff, which wasn’t far from the truth—she was, indeed, a servant.
Her brother looked at her with a long, bewildered glance, and for a moment she thought he’d tell the ushers: “Let her through, she’s my sister!” But Tom stayed silent—his name echoed loudly, and he ascended the stage without looking back.
She slouched onto a low chair by the wall, closed her eyes, mentally running through her to-do list: collect the suit from the dry cleaner, book a hotel and dinner, sort emails—she hadn’t checked them for two days. So many congratulations would surely arrive—how would she ever process them all?
She paid little attention to Tom’s speech—he had practiced in front of her yesterday, and of course, it was flawless. Usual acknowledgments: thanks to parents, teachers, pledging to work for his country’s good and world harmony. Amy’s memory sharp enough, she half-followed the script in her mind.
But unexpectedly, the plan veered off course. Instead of, “And I owe it all to my beloved parents (mum in her green dress and feathered hat, dad in his dark suit and light shirt in their front-row seats) and to the unforgettable Professor John Smith (up there on some cloud, proud of his best student),” Tom declared:
“I was supposed to say something else now, but hear me out… In truth, there’s one person without whom I wouldn’t be standing here.”
Amy pictured her parents exchanging triumphant looks—of course, each believed their contribution the most precious, and Professor John Smith was likely tumbling off a cloud at this disclosure.
“She devoted her entire life to me. I never noticed for a long time, taking it for granted. Now I realize it’s time to repay this goodness, even though to admit, her impact on my life is priceless, no treasure in the world could offer enough gratitude.”
Her dad’s forehead vein was likely bulging with anger, while her mum must have been tearing up from happiness.
“Today, I dedicate to you. I wish to give you all the money I received today to fulfill your dream of opening a dog shelter or to pursue any desire you wish.”
These words felt closer somehow, as if approaching her directly, and when Tom grasped her hand and pulled her onto the stage, Amy couldn’t grasp what was happening at first.
“Meet my sister, Amy. Without her, I’d never have achieved anything.”
Applause erupted, spotlight blinding her. Only then did the reality begin to dawn. She looked at Tom with gratitude, and he smiled at her. And that smile soothed all wounds—Ben’s departure, the home economics club that never was, the forlorn dogs in shelters all seemed to fade away. She stood in the spotlight, initially hunched and frightened but slowly finding something within urging her to straighten her spine.
He truly transferred the money to her. He also hired a young assistant, whom Amy trained to handle all the tasks she’d managed for Tom over the years.
“You won’t be my servant anymore,” Tom told her. “Forgive me, Amy, I was such a blind fool.”
And Amy forgave him. She did establish a dog shelter, enrolled in pastry school, and opened a small business—albeit standing behind the counter herself at times, but everything was precisely as she’d dreamed. Then one cold October evening, just as she was closing the register, a bell chimed, signaling a customer’s entrance. Amy warmly smiled at the tall man in a black coat, beginning to ask what he wanted before falling silent.
There stood Ben. Thinner, somber, weary. Yet so familiar.
“You came back…”
Amy felt her knees waver, gripping the counter for support.
“Amy,” he smiled. “Forgive me, I was such an idiot…”
Well, if the second most important man in her life was asking for forgiveness, what more could you want?
Her father never apologized—they and her mum had stopped speaking with Amy, convinced she’d cajoled Tom into giving her the money. But it didn’t matter—parents are parents, as they are. As for Ben… He was back, and now everything would surely be all right for Amy.
