We were born to compete. Raised to outrank. Trained to crush the other without mercy. For years, we tied. Every test. Every rank. Every damn point. Until I lost - once. And everyone thought I failed. But what they'll never know is... I lost on purpose. Not for love. Not for sympathy. But for something messier - guilt, pride, silence. He slapped me when I tried to help him. He thinks he won. And that's fine. Let him wear his crown. I'll take second - by choice.