I Was The Ugly Twin Who Outshone The Swan Sister Chapter 01

I Was The Ugly Twin Who Outshone The Swan Sister Chapter 01

Sienna Rowan and I were fraternal twins—born the same day, raised in two completely different worlds.

Sienna was the swan. She always had been.

I was the shadow standing behind her.

I wore Sienna’s hand-me-down dresses, carried her old backpack.

Mom cut my bangs thick and heavy across my forehead and made me wear clunky black-framed glasses.

“The supporting character shouldn’t outshine the star,” she said, like that was just a fact of life.

Dad was worse.

He told anyone who’d listen that I was the plain one.

And after a while, the relatives and neighbors all started saying it too.

“Brenna really didn’t get the looks, did she?”

A month before the conservatory auditions, Mom and Dad took Sienna out of state for intensive training.

I stayed home alone.

School during the day.

At night, I researched programs, sorted through applications, filled out enrollment forms—all for Sienna.

Mom called once on video chat, just long enough to say, “You should just get a teaching degree. Something close to Sienna’s school, so you can be there for her.”

But they didn’t know.

Every night, I laced up Sienna’s old, worn-out ballet shoes and practiced in the living room until the sky turned gray.

When the audition results came out, Sienna ranked 237th in her program.

I ranked first at Westbridge Conservatory of Dance.

My parents drove back through the night.

When they walked in and saw me, whatever they’d been about to say died in their throats.

I’d cut my thick bangs.

Taken off the clunky glasses.

For the first time, I wasn’t hiding behind anyone.

…

I thought maybe Mom would ask about my score first.

But she didn’t.

“Where are your bangs?”

She strode over in three quick steps, seized a handful of my hair, and forced my face upward roughly.

“And where are your glasses?” Her voice was shaking. “Put them back on.”

The class group chat had already exploded.

Someone had posted the conservatory’s public results next to a candid shot from the audition floor—me in my old practice clothes, my bangs pushed back with sweat, my face fully visible for the first time.

The messages came in fast.

[The first-place girl is STUNNING.]

[Wait—isn’t that Sienna Rowan’s little sister? She looks more like a swan than Sienna does??]

[She always had those glasses and her head down. I had no idea she looked like that.]

A sharp burning ache spread across my scalp where her hand clutched my hair tight, my eyes stinging with held-back tears.

Then my phone was gone—yanked right out of my hand.

Mom scrolled through the photos. Her face went livid. Her hands were visibly trembling.

“What did you do?” She slammed the phone onto the couch cushion. “Did you put on makeup? Did someone edit those pictures?”

“Sienna was out there crying through every grueling practice session, and you? You were sneaking around playing dress-up, applying behind our backs, and stealing her spotlight!”

Dad slapped the score sheet down on the coffee table.

“Brenna. Since when do you pull stunts like this?”

I opened my mouth. Couldn’t find the words.

Mom shoved me roughly backward.

I stumbled and scraped my heel hard against the table leg, a searing pain racing up my calf that blurred my sight briefly.

The night prior, the worn ballet shoes had rubbed a raw open spot on my heel during practice, leaving a dark dried stain inside the shoe lining.

But they didn’t see any of that.

They saw the haircut.

They saw people calling me pretty.

Sienna stepped out from behind them.

Her eyes were still swollen from crying.

She stared at my face like she didn’t recognize it.

“Did you know?” Her voice broke. “This whole time—did you know you’d look like this?”

Mom spun around and pulled Sienna into her arms immediately, pressing her daughter’s face into her shoulder.

“Don’t look, baby.”

Like my face was something that could cause damage.

I stood there, fingers slowly curling at my sides. I dug my nails into my palms. I didn’t feel it.

Dad’s voice was flat and final. “Put the glasses back on. Cover your hair. And Westbridge—you’re not going.”

I looked up at him. “Why?”

Mom let out a sharp, humorless laugh.

“Sienna is the one who’s been taking lessons since she was little. You’ve never even had proper training. If you suddenly take first place, what will people think of her?”

The ache in my chest was almost unbearable. I bit down on my lower lip until the urge to cry passed.

“Then what about me?”

“I practiced every single night until sunrise. My knees swelled up so bad I couldn’t bend them. My heel was bleeding and I taped it up and kept going.”

“I love dance too.”

Sienna’s tears spilled over.

“Brenna, don’t make this harder—Mom and Dad are just trying to protect you from making a mistake.”

Mom looked at me with something that looked almost like grief, but wasn’t.

“You finally get one good score and suddenly your family doesn’t matter anymore.”

I let out a short, broken laugh. The tears came anyway.

My phone lit up on the couch.

A message from a Westbridge faculty number.

[Hi Brenna—move-in for early training cohort opens in three days. Please confirm whether you’ll be checking in on time.]

My hands were still shaking when I picked it up.

I typed back anyway. One word.

[Confirmed.]