Chapter 3

Brenda' s fury didn't cool, it simmered, a constant, venomous presence in our home.

She couldn't undo the "sealed" choice, but she could make my life hell.

"Since Jessica has chosen a... simpler path," Brenda announced a few days later, her voice dripping with disdain for Jessica's choice and barely concealed rage at me, "she'll need support. A comfortable life doesn't pay for itself."

Her eyes fixed on me. "You, Sarah, with your... Trailblazer ambitions, will need to contribute. Immediately."

She thrust a newspaper at me, a job section circled in red.

"Mrs. Henderson down the street needs a part-time cleaner. And the diner is hiring waitresses. It' s honest work. Good for character."

Her plan was clear: bog me down in low-paying, dead-end jobs.

Keep me too tired, too poor, too distracted to pursue anything the Trailblazer Charm might offer.

All resources were to be funneled towards Jessica's anticipated "easy life."

Jessica, meanwhile, was already acting the part of a lady of leisure.

She spent her days flipping through fashion magazines and dreaming aloud about the wealthy men who would soon be falling at her feet, thanks to her "Wallflower allure."

"The charm makes you appealingly demure, you see," she'd explain to anyone who'd listen, mostly Brenda. "Men find that irresistible. They want a woman they can protect and pamper."

The Wallflower Charm, however, seemed to be interpreting "demure" differently.

Jessica became indecisive. Painfully so.

Choosing an outfit took hours. Deciding what to eat for lunch became a crisis.

Her confidence, once so brash, began to fray at the edges. She second-guessed everything.

Brenda, witnessing this, grew increasingly frustrated.

"You need to be more assertive, Jessica!" she'd snap, forgetting her own praise for the "manageable" life.

She even enrolled Jessica in an online "Assertiveness for Women" workshop.

Jessica dropped out after one session, complaining it was "too aggressive" and "not her style."

While they fumbled, I complied with Brenda's demands, outwardly.

I took the cleaning job. I worked shifts at the diner.

But the Trailblazer Charm was already at work.

My mind felt sharper, clearer than ever before.

Solutions to problems appeared with startling speed.

At the diner, I quickly memorized orders, optimized routes between tables, and subtly upsold, increasing my tips significantly.

Mrs. Henderson praised my efficiency in cleaning, remarking how I organized things in ways she' d never thought of.

And every spare moment, every dollar I could hide from Brenda' s grasping hands, went into my real plan.

Late at night, when the house was silent, I studied.

Online courses, library books borrowed under the radar, practice exams.

The Trailblazer didn't just grant intellect; it fueled a relentless drive.

I remembered the neglect from my first life.

The constant feeling of being second-best, an afterthought.

Brenda' s voice, a perpetual soundtrack of criticism: "Why can't you be more like Jessica?"

Frank, my father, a silent, passive enabler of Brenda's favoritism. His absence was a presence in itself.

He' d sit in his armchair, hidden behind a newspaper, while Brenda chipped away at my worth.

Never a word of defense. Never a look of support.

Jessica, even as a child, had quickly learned to play her part, amplifying Brenda's criticisms, enjoying her role as the golden child.

Those memories were fuel now.

This wasn't just about success. It was about escape.

It was about proving, mostly to myself, that I was more than the Wallflower they had tried to shape me into.

Brenda thought she was suppressing me.

She had no idea she was merely forging her own disappointment.