My entire life had been lived in the shadow of Arthur Lavigne.
He was a once-in-a-century genius, while I was just an ordinary student.
He effortlessly entered a top high school, was recruited by a prestigious university after skipping grades, and his teachers praised his unique personality even when he skipped classes to date.
As for me, I studied diligently, kept my appearance tidy, stayed up late to cram, and gave everything I had just to barely get into a renowned university.
By the time I entered university, Arthur was already in his third year, attending conferences with his advisor, and his face occasionally appeared on TV.
Whenever my parents saw this, they would sneer and criticize me:
"Why are you so much dumber than Arthur?"
"I've never been outdone by Mr. Lavigne, but you—you're such an embarrassment!"
"You're making it impossible for me to hold my head up in front of Mrs. Lavigne!"
I'd heard these words for eighteen years.
With calm resolve, I packed my bags and, alone, went to the station, carrying my suitcase and boarding the train to university.
---
Arthur's news always reached me through the curses of my parents.
From how his advisor fought to have him, to how he published papers... He casually skimmed through his books before exams and topped his entire department.
At that time, I was sitting in the library, buried in my notes, preparing for a professional exam.
Seeing this, I smiled, set my chat window to "Do Not Disturb," flipped it face down on the desk, and continued my review.
In my senior year, I missed out on a graduate school opportunity by a single place.
That night, my mom lost control and yelled at me for hours.
When I hung up, she sent me a voice message, crying and scolding:
"Why did I give birth to such a fool!"
"You're so useless... my life is so hard!"
...
After that night, I blocked her and found a job in a city far from home. I didn't return for three whole years.
Not even on Christmas Eve.
Every Christmas Eve, I would sit alone in my rental apartment, watching a classic movie, sipping on cola.
Between my parents and me, the only communication was money transfers, and we never spoke beyond that.
It was the eve of the fourth year.
On Christmas Eve, I returned with shopping bags full of cola to my rental apartment, only to see someone I absolutely did not want to see.
—Arthur.
Now, he was a regular on TV, the darling of academia, a genius with his name glorified everywhere. His appearance in a suit and tie did nothing to lessen my aversion to him.
I stood frozen, asking, "What are you doing here?"
He swallowed, his voice hoarse as he replied, "Why don't you come home?"
I furrowed my brows, not quite understanding why this had anything to do with him.
Seeing I didn't respond, his gaze darkened, and he continued, "Your parents miss you..."
"If there's nothing else, you can leave now."
I dismissed him impatiently: "You're not welcome here."
"...I miss you too," he said softly.
