The Last Smile She Misread

I floated in midair, staring down at my body curled on the floor.

My face had gone purple from suffocating. Ugly. Almost funny.

All the pain and panic stayed trapped in that dead shell.

Good.

I didn't have to hurt anymore.

My soul felt weightless. One thought, and I slipped through the wall into the grand concert hall.

Mom sat in the front row. She took a candy from Maya's hand, carefully unwrapped it, and popped it into Maya's mouth.

Her eyes were softer than I'd ever seen.

"Slow down. Don't choke."

Maya sucked on the candy and mumbled, "Sophie's so annoying. She had to fake being sick and almost made us late."

Mom's mouth curved into a faint sneer.

"Ignore her. She's just desperate for attention. The best move is to ignore her until she learns those tricks don't work on me."

Just then, the phone in Mom's designer purse buzzed.

A notification from the home security app popped up.

[The living room camera has detected prolonged inactivity. Please check for a potential emergency.]

Mom casually unlocked her phone and pulled up the camera feed.

On the screen, my body lay sprawled across the tile, completely still.

"Huh? Sophie's lying in a weird position." Maya leaned in, her face full of contempt. "She's pretending to be dead again. She just wants to trick you into going home."

Mom snorted, completely unfazed.

She zoomed in on my fingers, locked tight from oxygen deprivation, and slipped into lecture mode.

"Maya, this is called deliberate muscle tension. When someone's actually unconscious or dead, their muscles start out relaxed. Look at her fingers. They're clenched so tight. She's obviously overdoing it because she's scared no one will notice her performance."

She paused and pointed at my half-open mouth.

"And this. The corners of her mouth are turned down. That's a classic victim complex. She likes feeling misunderstood because it gives her emotional satisfaction."

A well-dressed woman in the next seat overheard and leaned over.

"You're Professor Lillian Doyle, right? The micro-expression expert who's always on TV? I've heard so much about you!"

Her eyes lit up.

"Your analysis is amazing. Nothing gets past you."

"Thank you."

Mom smiled modestly and lifted her chin.

Floating above them, I gave a silent, bitter smile.

Mom...

This time, you were dead wrong.

I suddenly remembered being little, before Mom became world-famous.

Back then, her eyes held nothing but love for me.

Whenever I got upset, she'd pull me close and kiss my forehead again and again.

"Every smile, every tear—you're my greatest treasure, Sophie. I'll always protect you."

But then Mom got famous.

Then Maya was born.

Maya was sweet, always smiling, winning everyone over without even trying.

I was stiff. Awkward.

Mom, obsessed with perfection and control, slowly started hating me.

I kept thinking if I tried harder... and harder...

Maybe she'd love me again.

But every try just pushed her further away.

The concert finally ended.

The crowd slowly filtered out, but Mom made no move to leave.

Holding her hand, Maya looked up.

"Mom, aren't we going home? Isn't Sophie still putting on her show?"