Unbroken Mercy

Chapter Two: Beneath the Surface

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of the Smith mansion’s dining room, casting a soft glow on the polished mahogany table where the family gathered for breakfast. As usual, Lizzy had been up early, preparing tea for herself and setting the table quietly before the rest of the household had stirred.

Funmi arrived last, still half-asleep, her hair tousled as she slumped into her seat. Mrs. Smith gave her a gentle smile, trying to meet her daughter’s eyes. “Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?”

Funmi shrugged. “Fine,” she replied curtly, avoiding her mother’s gaze.

Across the table, Lizzy poured herself a glass of orange juice, her movements calm and deliberate. She seemed oblivious to Funmi’s coldness, and maybe that was what made Funmi’s resentment simmer just a little more. It wasn’t that she hated Lizzy, not exactly. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that Lizzy was… too perfect.

Mr. Smith folded his newspaper and cleared his throat. “Girls, I was thinking we might all go to the country club this Saturday. We haven’t had a family outing in quite some time.”

Lizzy’s face lit up, and she nodded eagerly. “That sounds lovely, Dad. I’d like that.”

Funmi forced a smile, barely concealing her irritation. She knew her father adored Lizzy, and she could see how much he valued Lizzy’s presence in their lives. Sometimes, it felt like they looked at Lizzy and saw everything they’d hoped Funmi would be.

“That’s fine,” Funmi mumbled, turning her attention to her plate.

Mrs. Smith reached over to pat Funmi’s hand gently. “You’ll enjoy yourself, dear. It’ll be good for all of us.”

Funmi tried to nod but found herself biting her lip instead. The truth was, she felt like an outsider in her own family. Lizzy seemed to fit so easily with them, like she was the piece that had been missing. Sometimes Funmi wondered if her parents even noticed her anymore.

After breakfast, Funmi headed to the garden, needing space to clear her head. The sprawling garden was Lizzy’s favorite place, filled with blooming roses and winding paths shaded by oak trees. She could already hear Lizzy’s quiet laughter from the far corner of the garden, where their mother was admiring a new patch of lilies.

Funmi watched from a distance, her chest tightening as she observed Lizzy and her mother, their easy companionship. She didn’t understand why it hurt so much to see them together, but she couldn’t deny the pang she felt.

She turned to leave, but before she could slip away, Lizzy spotted her. “Funmi!” Lizzy called, waving with that ever-present gentle smile.

For a moment, Funmi wanted to ignore her, to pretend she hadn’t heard. But something in Lizzy’s openness, her unguarded warmth, held her back. She hesitated, then walked over, her steps slow and reluctant.

“Hey, Lizzy,” Funmi said, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“I was just telling Mom about how beautiful the lilies are this year,” Lizzy said, her voice soft. “You should come by tomorrow morning. I could use some help pruning them.”

Funmi glanced at their mother, who was beaming with pride. “Lizzy has such a talent for this,” Mrs. Smith said, her voice brimming with admiration. “She’s been working so hard on the garden this year.”

Funmi forced a smile, the bitterness rising again. “I’ve been busy with school,” she replied flatly, feeling the familiar sting of not quite measuring up.

Before Lizzy could respond, Mrs. Smith’s phone buzzed, and she stepped aside to take the call. Lizzy turned to Funmi, her eyes full of understanding.

“Funmi,” she began, her voice gentle. “I know I might seem… I don’t know, like I’m intruding on things. But I just want you to know, you’re my sister. I don’t want you to feel like—”

“Feel like what?” Funmi snapped, cutting her off. She hadn’t meant for her voice to sound so sharp, but the words had escaped before she could stop them.

Lizzy looked down, her face softening. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re less important. You’re amazing, Funmi. I know things can be… complicated, but I really admire you.”

For a moment, Funmi felt a flicker of warmth, but it was quickly overshadowed by the familiar doubt gnawing at her. She wanted to believe Lizzy, to accept her words as genuine. But a part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that Lizzy was just being polite, trying to ease the tension that had been building between them for years.

Without a word, Funmi turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Lizzy standing alone by the lilies. She didn’t look back, even as she heard Lizzy’s soft sigh, lingering in the air like an unspoken apology.

In her room, Funmi sank onto her bed, her heart heavy. She knew her resentment was unfair, but it had become a part of her, a shadow that seemed impossible to escape. She didn’t hate Lizzy—not really. But every time she saw the way their parents looked at Lizzy, with pride and affection, she couldn’t help but wonder: would they still love her the same way if Lizzy wasn’t there?

As she closed her eyes, she made a silent promise to herself. One day, she would make them see her, really see her. And until then, she’d keep her resentment hidden, just as she always had.

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