When Alice was born, the midwife told her mother she was destined for good fortune—born under a lucky star. And until she was five, Alice indeed knew happiness: her mother braided her hair and read her picture books, only getting upset when Alice struggled to remember her letters. Meanwhile, her father taught her how to ride a bicycle, and they would spend weekends in the countryside where he let her steer along the country lanes.
When Alice turned five, her parents announced she would soon have a little brother.
– A birthday gift for you, they said.
Sure enough, the gift arrived just in time for her birthday, overshadowing all her future celebrations. Kir, as her brother was named, quickly assumed a special place in the family. Initially because he was the youngest, but later for being a prodigy.
Kir learned to read before Alice did, although by twenty, she still read at the pace of a first-grader. People today might call it dyslexia, but back then, the term was unheard of, and Alice was placed in a special class. Kir’s math skills astonished his teacher so much that she called her professor, Alex Stevens. And Kir wrote poetry—unusual, yet thoroughly original verses.
Thus, Alice’s happy days were over. Not only did she have to share her birthday with her brother, but her life now revolved entirely around Kir. It was Alice who accompanied Kir to school, English lessons, swimming, and his sessions with Professor Stevens, not to mention music classes and poetry circles. When Alice expressed a wish to join a home economics club, her mother declared indignantly:
– Do you want me to quit my job and take Kir to his lessons? You’re always thinking of yourself!
Alice gave in. If she managed everything correctly—keeping track of Kir’s complex schedule, preparing two dinners (Kir turned vegetarian at six, while her father couldn’t go a day without meat), and earning money by walking neighborhood dogs—her mother would praise her and pat her on the head.
Alice’s hair was cut because her mother had no time to braid it since she was busy helping Kir with English in the mornings or writing down his nighttime poetry. Left to her own devices, Alice would make a messy ponytail, prompting red-ink reprimands from her teacher. Her mother wasn’t pleased by these notes and took Alice to a salon for a neat short haircut. Despite the haircut suiting her, Alice cried all night for her lost braids.
– Finish school, and you can do what you want, – her mother would say whenever Alice weakly protested the latest duty concerning Kir. – It doesn’t matter to you—you do nothing but read your cookbooks.
After finishing school—not only hers, but Kir’s too—Alice found no liberation. Besides making nourishing breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for Kir, ironing his clothes, and managing household chores, Alice also became something of his secretary. She handled his schedule, monitored competitions and contests, and organized his mail. When she suggested working at a dog shelter, not just her mother but Kir reprimanded her, lamenting they’d be lost without her.
So, Alice conceded once more.
But she did resist once—when she met Ben.
Ben wasn’t traditionally handsome. He was tall, plump, and spent his days coding on his computer. His family bought him a dog, hoping it would encourage him to get out more. Instead, he hired Alice to walk the dog, which is how they met. Soon after, Alice was spending the night after walking the dog.
Alice’s mother called insistently, demanding she return home—she despised ironing, and Kir only wore shirts. Kir complained too, missing her pencil-sharpening, noting their father’s meat pie delivery and the lack of anything else to eat with their mother dieting again.
– Leave me alone! – Alice shouted. – I’m not your servant!
Ben would kiss away her tears, promising that one day they’d marry. Then he left for America, landing a lucrative job offer.
– I’m sorry, – was all he said.
When it was announced Kir was to receive an award, their parents burst with pride, telling everyone they knew. Their mother booked a salon appointment, dreaming of the accolades, while their father looked forward to the prize money, hoping Kir might help fund a new car.
Alice’s responsibilities increased—beyond her usual “clean-cook-fetch”; she was booking flights, securing a hotel with a pool and vegetarian meals among other tasks. Alice was exhausted by the time they arrived, everything prepared—tuxedo, speech, an awaiting audience. She kissed Kir’s cheek backstage and went to find her seat, wishing her parents had saved one for her.
A tall guard barred her entrance to the auditorium.
– Staff can’t enter here, he stated.
– What? – Alice was confused.
– Wait for your employer backstage, another younger guard said with a smug look. – In that outfit, you’ll look out of place.
Alice glanced down at her old dress—it wasn’t new, but she hadn’t had time to change. The dress wasn’t the issue; they’d mistaken her for staff. Not far from the truth—servant, indeed.
Kir gave her a surprised look and, for a moment, Alice thought he might tell the guards, “Let her through, she’s my sister!” But Kir stayed silent; the emcee announced his name, and Kir headed to the stage without a backward glance.
Seated near the wall, Alice closed her eyes, listing tasks in her mind: picking up the suit from the cleaners, reserving the hotel and dinner, sorting emails—she hadn’t checked them in two days. So many congratulations awaited; how would she ever read them all?
Kir’s speech yesterday was flawless, rehearsed to perfection, thanking parents, teachers, promising to work for the country’s prosperity and harmony. Alice’s memory was excellent, following the order.
Then, something unexpected happened. Rather than saying, “I’m grateful to my parents (mother in her green dress, feathered hat, father in a dark suit, coordinating shirt, seated in the front row) and the unforgettable Professor Stevens (in his blue posthumous attire, beaming from a cloud at his best student),” Kir declared:
– Here, I’m meant to say something else, but listen… Truly, there’s only one person responsible for me being here today.
Alice could imagine her parents exchanging triumphant glances, each believing their contribution was most significant, and Professor Stevens likely falling off his cloud.
– She’s devoted her entire life to me. For a long time, I took it for granted. It’s time to repay that kindness, though her role in my life is priceless, and not even all the world’s treasures can fully compensate.
Her father’s forehead vein probably pulsed in anger, as it always did, while her mother was undoubtedly teary-eyed with joy.
– This day is dedicated to you. And all the money I received today, I want you to have so you can open that dog shelter you’ve always dreamed of, and pursue whatever brings you happiness.
The words reached her differently; as Kir took her hand and pulled her towards the stage, Alice slowly grasped what was happening.
– Meet my sister, Alice. Without her, I wouldn’t have achieved anything.
The applause roared, stage lights blinded Alice. Then it dawned on her what was occurring. She gazed at Kir with gratitude, and he looked back, smiling. The smile healed everything: Ben’s departure, the missed home economics club, the dogs waiting in the shelter… Standing under the spotlight, bent and scared, yet something inside Alice awakened, urging her to stand tall.
He did give her all the money, and he hired a young man whom Alice taught everything she’d done for Kir.
– You won’t be my servant anymore, – Kir told her. – I’m sorry, Alice. I was blind.
And Alice forgave him. She founded a dog shelter, pursued a confectionery career, and started her own small business—often manning the counter herself—but it was exactly as she’d wished. One chilly October evening, as closing time approached, the doorbell rang, alerting to a customer’s presence. Alice greeted the tall man in a black coat, began to ask what he’d like, but fell silent mid-sentence.
There stood Ben. Slimmer, serious, weary. Yet so familiar.
– You’ve returned…
Alice felt her legs weaken and clasped the counter for support.
– Alice, – he smiled gently. – Forgive me for being a fool…
Well then—having the second most important man in her life apologize, what more could she ask for?
Only her father didn’t seek forgiveness—they’d stopped speaking to Alice with her mother, believing she influenced Kir into giving everything away. But it didn’t matter—parents are who they are. As for Ben… He was back, and Alice knew everything would be alright.
