Chapter One: The Girl They Named Misfortune
Toria did not remember the day she was born, but she grew up hearing its echo.
It was whispered in arguments.
Thrown casually in anger.
Wrapped in silence at the dinner table.
Before her, there was wealth.
After her, there was struggle.
And somehow
in a house full of grown people
they decided a child carried the weight of that coincidence.
Toria was the second born in a family of four children. Annie, her elder sister, walked like sunlight bright, admired, impossible to ignore. Chris and Precious, the younger ones, were laughter and softness, embraced easily.
But Toria?
Toria was a shadow that lived in the same house.
She learned early that love in her family was not evenly distributed. It was measured. Weighed. Given with conditions she never seemed to meet.
When she fell sick, her mother would sigh, not with concern, but with irritation.
“Stop pretending.”
Even pain had to prove itself in that house.
And so, Toria grew like a flower planted in dry soil, stretching toward a sun that never quite reached her.
School was supposed to be different.
A fresh start.
A place where names did not carry history.
But life, it seemed, had a way of repeating itself.
At Almater Junior Secondary School, Toria entered JSS1 quietly, hoping invisibility would protect her.
Her sister Annie was already a legend there Head Girl, perfect, admired. Teachers spoke her name like a standard, a measuring tape.
And soon, Toria realized she wasn’t just a student.
She was a comparison.
“You can’t even be like your sister?”
The words followed her like a stubborn shadow.
Still, she found something that felt like belonging.
Mary. Sharon. Titi.
Three girls who laughed loudly, shared secrets, and pulled Toria into their circle like she finally mattered.
For a while, it felt real.
Like maybe just maybe life was giving her a small piece of kindness.
But kindness, in Toria’s life, often came dressed as something else.
One afternoon, everything shattered.
A notebook.
A teacher’s voice.
Four names.
Punishment fell like rain heavy, sudden, undeserved.
Except Toria didn’t even know it was raining.
Inside that notebook were secrets she had never seen, words she had never written, plans she had never imagined. Yet she stood there, accused alongside them, her heart pounding like a trapped bird.
When the truth came out,when her name was not found,she was freed.
But freedom did not feel like relief.
Because that was the day comparison turned into judgment.
The teachers began.
“If Annie were here”
“You’re nothing like your sister.”
And just like that, Toria lost something she didn’t even realize she still had:
The belief that she could ever be enough.
That same week, something else happened.
Something small.
Something sharp.
Something that would stay with her longer than any punishment.
In a biology class filled with restless students and lazy afternoon heat, the teacher’s voice cut through the room.
“Toria, stand up.”
She stood.
“Are you sure you are not a bastard?”
The class went silent.
The words hung in the air heavy, ugly, impossible to take back.
The teacher didn’t stop.
“Your siblings are fat. Look at you. Are you premature? Go and ask your mother.”
Laughter didn’t come.
Shock did.
Embarrassment wrapped around Toria like fire burning, invisible, consuming.
In that moment, she wished she could disappear. Not run. Not hide.
Just… stop existing.
Because how do you defend yourself against a question that attacks your very existence?
That night, she stared at her reflection.
A body too thin.
A face too quiet.
A girl who suddenly looked like a question mark.
And for the first time, Toria began to believe something dangerous:
Maybe they are right.
She stopped eating the way she used to.
Food lost its meaning.
Laughter lost its sound.
And slowly, without announcement, depression settled into her like an uninvited guest who refused to leave.
But the scariest thing about pain is not when it arrives.
It’s when it becomes normal.
And just when Toria thought she had gotten used to being invisible…
Someone, somewhere, finally saw her.
A message.
A notification.
A name she had never heard before.
David.
And for the first time in a long time
Toria smiled.
But she didn’t know that the person who made her feel seen… would soon become the reason she wished she was invisible again.
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