Tian Xiu

The sun hangs low over our village, casting everything in that familiar golden haze. The scent of jasmine drifts through the breeze.. normally comforting, but today it twists my stomach. I hear the laughter of children playing nearby, distant and out of reach, like a sound from another life. The wooden houses, draped in red lanterns, stand still and silent behind me, but there’s nothing still about the storm inside my chest.

I stand here, facing you. My hair is woven into a double maiden bun, tight, perfect, like everything is supposed to be. The sunlight catches on the strands, glinting gold, but all I see is your face. That same look, like you don’t understand. Like you never will.

My dress clings to me, golden silk trimmed in black, flawless by any standard… but it feels like armor I didn’t ask for. Even my sandals, delicate, toeless, feel wrong. Too soft. Too quiet. I want the ground to feel every step I take.

“Why do you even bother pretending this is your home?” I spit, my voice sharp, bitter. “You’ve always been an outsider. A charity case. Just look at you. You don’t belong here.. and you never will.”

The wind stirs the leaves above us, but even that soft sound can’t muffle the fury in my voice. “The villagers laugh at you behind your back. They think I’m foolish for letting my family share anything with someone like you.”

My throat tightens, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. “I don’t understand how my parents ever wanted you. You’ve taken everything. Their love. Their time. Their attention. I give them everything I have, and they still… they still look at you.”

I step closer, each movement deliberate, grounding me. The tension thickens with every breath. “You’re just a reminder of what I’m not. Of what I can never be. Everything was different before you came. Do you think this is easy for me? Watching you stand in the light that was meant for me?”

I swallow hard, but the words push their way out anyway. “You don’t belong here,” I say again, softer now, but no less true. “Just go back to where you came from.”

The sunset bathes the village in strokes of orange and pink, warm and lovely. But none of it touches me. None of it softens the chill that’s settled between us. Not even beauty can cover the cracks you've left behind.