“All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.”
―Mitch Albom
 
 
 
 
 
. . .
 
 
 
 
 
Their mother loves William more…
 
Winters didn’t know nor remember how old she was when that frustrating thought first started nor when exactly it suddenly bloomed, like the irritating weed that it was.
 
But there was a part of Winters, the one that lets her know when someone is not being really honest with her thinks so as well and she knows she should listen to that nagging feeling since it’s never wrong. But… but the other part—the little girl that still loves (and will always love) her mother, the larger part of her—tries not to entertain such thoughts.
 
It wouldn’t do well for her to be jealous of her own little brother, of all people. Besides, their mother is not a bad person; sure, mother can be a bit strict and mean about some things but that was only because she loves her children… right?
 
Her mother wouldn’t stay up late just to make her hair ribbons or hug her to sleep whenever Winters got bad dreams she couldn’t even remember despite being so tired that day or… or read books to her about those cute little rabbits (because Dad has to work late these days) if mother doesn’t really care about Winters. Mother wouldn’t have made the effort if that was the case. And Winters has never known a mother that didn’t love her children.
 
It is as what Dad says: that Mother’s heart is surely big enough to love both of her children just the same. There’s no favoritism going on. 
 
It’s just…
 
It just so happens that William is younger.
 
Smaller.
 
Her brother was still a little baby, after all. Which means, he needs his mother to care for him more than Winters who was already four years older than William.
 
Winters knows this, both of her parents (though not at the same time) had already sat her down and talked to her at length about William before and even after she saw him that fateful, early morning. That she’s going to be a big sister real soon.
 
That she’s a big sister now.
 
And the logical part of her is more than aware that just because there is another child in their family (just because she’s no longer the baby), it doesn’t make her loved or wanted any less; Dad always made sure she never feels left out after all, making sure to spend time with her whenever he got home from work, despite falling asleep halfway through bedtime stories.
 
But for some reason, the doubt remained, seeping from the corner of her minds. It persisted in times she least expected it.
 
That William was the one loved, not her.
 
Like a weed, this doubt remained, growing.
 
And so did the guilt and shame—as well as her resentment to him, her, the both of them really, if she was being more honest to herself. Not that Winters really knows what to call these annoying feelings back then. What’s a five (and a half!) year old to even know about such things?
 
But emotions, Winters has come to learn, are confusing and often annoying, and Winters can’t help the sudden twist in her heart whenever she sees the way their dad and William looking so much alike. Or the way their mother would fondly smile down at William in their dad’s arms with nothing but fondness in her usually serious eyes, planting tiny kisses on the crown of his downy hair and even laughing at something adorable he would do every now and then.
 
…William has dad’s eyes.
 
And now, whenever her little brother would smile, Winters sees their mother’s smile too. The one mother always had on the ready for William. But for Winters, it feels like she has to work so hard just to have the smallest of smiles aimed at her.
 
Winters wasn’t the only one who noticed this.
 
The other grown-ups (the nosier ones, at least) would say so too, whenever they have to go outside further the house and Winters just about swears she’s tired of hearing the same thing: your boy looks so much like his daddy! Oh, but that’s definitely your smile, hm?
 
With their dad’s eyes and mother’s smile, the three of them looked like a picture-perfect set of family. But Winters, with her too-dark hair and too-pale skin, seemed so strange standing next to this little family.
 
(And on some days, Winters felt like a stranger at best, and an intruder at worst even in her own home around them.
 
Even if no one would ever say it out loud.
 
She was the odd one out.)
 
But… still… they are her family, too.
 
Her parents love her, and William is her brother. Her little brother, and Winters had promised to dad that she’s going to be nice and share and yet… and yet, it seems like William doesn’t even need Winters to share because he has already something that she does not.
 
He has more than Winters will ever have.
 
Their dad’s eyes.
 
And now, their mother’s rare smiles.
 
But maybe… just maybe Winters could have their mother’s smile for herself too if she only learns how to do it properly… if only mother smiles more often at her then Winters was so sure she will know how to do it too…
 
Not like it matters now…
 
At the sudden sound of blankets rustling, Winters sat upright on her bed that night before quickly looking over at William from the other side of the room, who has gotten it into his head to wake up in such an odd hour for reasons she’ll never know why.
 
Babies sure are weird creatures, she thinks, as she blinks at him. But at least her brother is kind of cute. And not crying… yet.
 
Good.
 
Because she can’t handle him crying.
 
As if hearing her thoughts, William suddenly catches her curious gaze through the wooden bars of his crib and his lips wobbled dangerously, as if seconds away from actually crying, clumsily making grabby hands for his favorite, fluffy blanket that mother made for him last year now lying on the floor.
 
…Oh.
 
He must have knocked it over in his sleep earlier.
 
William tosses in his crib, practically flailing his arms and legs about with quiet whines and Winters tightens her arms around herself for a second as she looks on at him, considering what to do.
 
It… wouldn’t do to wake their parents up over something Winters can easily help with. Not when they were both so stressed these days. If they’re not tired or so busy with work, could they have more time to really play with William and Winters?
 
For some strange reason, Winters doesn’t think it would be so simple as that, but she wants to believe that everything will be alright, that it’ll be easily fixed.
 
…like picking up her brother’s favorite blanket.
 
She was a child.
 
She wants to believe in that.
 
It was well worth it, at least, when William giggles and babbles happily as Winters silently stands on her tippy-toes to drape his blankie over to him as much as she can reach through the crib’s too-high bars, beaming up at her with that precious, delighted smile. Their mother’s smile, the one that Winters could never ever have because their mother wouldn’t smile like that at Winters.
 
Before Winters could turn to go back to bed, William suddenly reached forward. And much to her surprise, she felt some of the back of her sleeping shirt being grasped by her baby brother’s tiny hands.
 
Confused, she looked over her shoulder.
 
“W-Win… Win-Win!” William chirps, noisily.
 
Winters stared.
 
He stared right back at her, eyes shining blue and smile as warm as a sunny day. Something in her heart clenched, and suddenly, it was so hard to look at him.
 
She sighs, pulling away, “Go back to sleep, William.”
 
That night, even though Winters was the first to settle on her bed, she doesn’t quite close her eyes until she was sure that William has actually gone back to sleep.