Erased by My Family, Loved by the World

When my sister won the Annual Hit Song Award, the broadcast camera panned to our parents in the front row. The host smiled warmly. "Mrs. Miller, your daughter is phenomenal! Any parenting secrets you'd like to share with us?" My mom couldn’t hide her pride. "A daughter should always be raised like a princess. Spare no expense, both emotionally and financially. She deserves only the best." Sitting in front of my tiny laptop screen, I looked down at my worn-out, thrift-store hoodie and felt a cold pit in my stomach. Later that night, when Mom walked through the door, I quietly asked her why she had never raised me like that. She brushed past me with pure disgust. "Taylor, you're twenty years old! Stop throwing childish tantrums just to beg for attention." She forgot that in this house, I had never once dared to ask for anything. My younger sister, Chloe, practically livestreamed her entire way home holding that shiny gold trophy. When her phone camera briefly caught my figure standing in the hall, she quickly jerked it away. "Oops! Almost bumped into someone!" she giggled into the screen. "No, silly! That’s just a distant relative staying in our guest room!" She shot me a warning glare, cradling her trophy like a newborn as she headed up to the second floor. I watched her back, turning around to speak to Mom, but Mom had already slipped into the master bath. Dad was glued to his phone, booming with laughter to his business partners. "Yeah, our Chloe’s just that talented! Of course, of course, we poured everything into her from day one. High-caliber kids cost money, but she's worth every single cent!" Passing by me, he barely glanced in my direction before frowning. "We’ve got guests dropping by this week. Make sure you don't walk around looking like a homeless beggar." I balled my hands into tight fists. "Then... what if I just move out?" He hung up, scrolling on his screen without looking up. "Whatever. Do what you want." A bitter smile touched my lips. Twenty years. After twenty long years, I finally had my answer: they truly didn’t love me. They didn't care at all. Compared to Chloe, I was nothing more than a ghost. Now that I could finally leave, I couldn't pack my bags fast enough. I walked right out the front door, leaving behind the house where I had lived for a decade. When I was born, their business was just taking off. They were so busy that on the second day of my life, they dropped me off at my aging grandma's countryside house. Years later, after Grandma passed away, I was brought back to them. Chloe was only one year younger than me, yet she had grown up in their arms every single day. The first day I arrived, Chloe was nestled in Mom's lap wearing a gorgeous, custom designer dress. She looked me up and down like a spoiled princess, then sneered and turned away. Mom simply pointed a finger toward the drafty attic stairs and sent me away. I lived in that attic for ten years. When Chloe had private piano lessons, I bit my fingernails in the corner. When Chloe had ballet coaching, I was outside playing in the mud alone. When Chloe brought home a regional music trophy, I proudly brought home an Academic Improvement Award from school. Mom and Dad threw a massive party, inviting dozens of guests to brag about Chloe's genius. Meanwhile, my certificate was knocked onto the floor by some running kid and trampled into shredded mud. Nobody noticed me. They only saw me crying in the corner, clutching the torn paper. Eventually, the maid dragged me away to calm me down. She helped me tape it back together, but my name had already been rubbed away. Afterward, my parents scolded me for making a scene and embarrassing them. When a guest asked who I was, Mom didn't hesitate for a second: "Just a poor cousin's kid from the countryside." Ever since then, I became nothing more than a freeloading distant relative in their eyes. Moving out felt completely natural. I didn't own much anyway—just two battered suitcases. As I wheeled them downstairs, Mom was walking out of her room with a face mask on. She didn't ask where I was going with luggage. She just barked, "Don't take the trash out so late! The wheeling noise is annoying!" "Got it," I whispered, walking out into the night without looking back. Before stepping out, a tiny, foolish part of me still hoped she would call after me and ask where I was going so late. She didn't. I laughed at myself. In that family, I was invisible. Utterly worthless. I rented a small, rundown studio apartment near the edge of town for a few hundred bucks a month. The subway station was right downstairs, making it easy to hunt for jobs. I was still in college, and my parents had never sent me a single dime of allowance. Even my tuition was covered entirely by my hard-earned scholarships. They seemed to forget they had another daughter who needed money to survive, never once asking if I had enough to eat. During my hungriest year, I practically lived off the free broth in the campus cafeteria. I’d linger around until everyone cleared out, searching for uneaten leftovers from other students' trays. People snickered and called me a bottomless trash can behind my back. I never dared to get mad. They were right; that was exactly what I was. Besides, if I snapped, they wouldn't let me take their scraps anymore. It wasn't until college, when I finally started picking up odd freelance gigs, that I could afford three proper meals a day. Every time Mom saw me, her lips curled in disgust. "Taylor, why do you always look so miserable and pathetic? Stop walking around with us in public. It’s downright embarrassing!"The first twenty years of my life were spent in this suffocating cycle of neglect and contempt. In the beginning, I craved their love. I longed for my sister to look up to me. But no matter how hard I tried, all I ever got was ridicule. Once, when I aced my finals and ranked first in the class, I ran home with my report card—only to find Chloe sobbing in Mom's arms. "My grades slipped! Mom, you have to hire me an elite private tutor! The most expensive one! I refuse to lose to anyone!" Mom cooed, stroking her hair. "Of course, sweetheart. My Chloe is destined for greatness. We won't let anyone beat you." Eager to prove myself, I held out my report card. "Mom, look! I got straight A's! First place in the entire class!" Mom glared at me with cold fury. "Can't you see your sister is stressed out about her grades? Are you doing this on purpose to humiliate her?" I opened my mouth to explain, but she cut me off impatiently. "Get lost! You have zero emotional intelligence. You're an eyesore!" Silently, I took that report card—the result of countless sleepless nights—and buried it at the very bottom of my desk drawer. Whenever their insults cut too deep, I would sneak it out and look at it, just to remind myself that I wasn't complete trash. Chloe was naturally gifted in performing arts: singing, dancing, playing instruments—she had it all. Once, I gathered the courage to enter a campus singing contest. My voice was naturally deep, a bit raspy and husky. When I practiced in my attic, Chloe pounded on the door, laughing hysterically. "What are you doing? I thought an ugly dying frog was croaking in here!" Mom shouted from downstairs, "Taylor, shut up! That sounds horrifying!" I was about to withdraw my registration, but a classmate stopped me. "Taylor, your voice has this incredible, soulful grit. It tells a story. It's honestly one of the best things I've ever heard!" I ended up winning third place in that competition. When I brought the certificate home, Chloe scoffed. "Mom, look at her! She must've begged the judges to throw her a pity prize just to spite me!" Mom rolled her eyes. "With that raspy, ugly voice, she just got dumb lucky." She added bitterly, "Sneaky little schemer. God knows whose genes she inherited." All my blood, sweat, and tears were dismissed as cheap luck and malicious schemes. Nothing I did would ever earn their validation. That certificate joined the other one at the bottom of my drawer. After that day, I never shared a single achievement with them again. Instead, I channeled everything inside me—all the hurt, the loneliness, the yearning—into digital art and webcomics. I realized something: as long as I wasn't competing in Chloe's lane, they didn't bother targeting me. In fact, they simply forgot I existed. If I sang or danced, Chloe got offended. So, I kept my mouth shut and drew. I submitted my original webcomics to online creative contests under a pen name and swept several top awards. In my fictional worlds, my protagonists could scream, break the rules, unlock extraordinary powers, and be showered with unconditional love from people who cherished them. In reality, I had none of that. So I poured every ounce of my soul into those characters. When AI visual tools and short-form animations blew up, I adapted my comics into dynamic webtoons and animated clips for TikTok and YouTube. It opened up a brand-new world for me. In my tiny studio apartment, I worked part-time during the day and drew late into the night. Staying constantly occupied was a blessing; when every minute was packed with passion, I had no time to grieve over my broken family. Just one month after I moved out, the premiere episode of my animated web series dropped online. Within twenty-four hours, it went viral, smashing past ten million views. The comments section exploded: 【Author-nim, please drop the next episode right now! I need it to breathe!】 【Even factory machines take breaks, but YOU CANNOT! Update faster, queen!】 "Drop thirty episodes a day, please!" "This is so moving and painfully real. Toxic families are the worst. If I had the main character's spine, I would've walked out of my house without looking back too!" Seeing thousands of comments sharing my pain validated everything I had buried deep down. Being born into this family wasn't my sin—it was theirs. They never bothered to see my worth, and they never cared to discover my potential. I deserved to be loved.I kept up a brutal schedule, dropping one fully rendered episode every single day. I poured every waking second into my tablet, running back and forth between college lectures and digital drafting. A month after the animation took off, Mom finally remembered that her eldest daughter hadn't set foot in the house for weeks. Her call came through out of nowhere. "Taylor, why aren't you at home?" Before I could answer, she scoffed dismissively, "Whatever, it’s better that you're not here anyway. A TV crew is coming over for an exclusive home interview with Chloe. Since you're already out, stay away!" "It saves us the trouble of explaining who you are." "Okay, sure," I replied calmly. My lack of emotion caught her off guard. She probably expected me to beg for an invite. I was ready to hang up, but Mom abruptly barked another order: "We need the house spotless for the cameras. There’s still a pile of your junk in the attic. Clear it all out!" "Be here tomorrow morning!" "Fine," I said. Early the next morning, I returned to the house, walked up the creaky stairs to the attic, and boxed up everything left behind. Then, I carried it all downstairs and tossed it into the dumpster outside. None of it belonged to me anyway. Old stage outfits Chloe had discarded, outdated textbooks Dad didn't want on his pristine shelves, cheap souvenir snacks Mom bought on vacation trips... I had spent ten years playing the role of their household trash bin, passively receiving whatever leftover scrap they didn't want. Now, their junk went straight where it belonged. I didn't hesitate for a second. Just as I turned around, the front gates opened. Chloe walked in, flanked by a full production crew. I paused, slightly confused. Mom said they were coming the day after tomorrow. Why the early shoot? The crew carried heavy cameras and boom mics, already rolling b-roll footage. I stepped aside immediately, keeping my head down to slip away. When Chloe spotted me, her face froze. Then she scowled, turning to the cameras with an awkward chuckle. "Oh! Um... that’s just our distant relative staying over!" I gave a polite nod, ready to vanish, but a young man carrying a director's monitor suddenly blocked my path. "Wait! Hold on!" He stared at me in shock. "Are you... are you 'Little Tay', the webtoon artist?" I froze, caught off guard. "Yes, that's me." I honestly never expected to get recognized in person. His face lit up with raw excitement. "Oh my god! I'm a huge fan of your series! Could I please get your autograph? Seriously, your story is incredible!" Surprised by his genuine warmth, I signed his notebook and let him snap a quick selfie with me. The man pulled a business card from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. "I’m Zach Evans, the showrunner. Your storytelling is out of this world. I'd love to produce a special documentary feature on you. In fact, would you be interested in guest starring on this reality docuseries?" I glanced at Chloe. Her eyes were burning with pure jealousy and sharp, venomous warnings. I shook my head without hesitation. "Thank you, but I'll pass. I'm really not interested." I turned to leave, but Zach rushed forward, calling out, "I'm Zach! Please call me whenever you're free! Seriously, think about it!" I gave a noncommittal hum and hurried out. What I didn't know was that the crew's camera had caught every second of the interaction. Once the behind-the-scenes clip leaked online, social media went wild: 【Wait, hold up! The 'distant relative' Chloe brushed off is literally Little Tay?! I’m obsessed with her webtoon!】 【Tay, drop the pen and update the comic! Stop wandering around outside!】 【Is it just me, or do they look insanely similar? Are they actually sisters?】 【Chloe literally said distant relative. Relatives share genetics, so looking alike makes total sense.】 【Props to Chloe's family, though. Letting a broke distant relative crash in their mansion for over ten years isn't cheap.】 【Wait, Taylor was my elementary school classmate! I never once saw her parents at teacher conferences. Living under someone else's roof must have been hell for her.】 The online chatter completely derailed Chloe's spotlight. I had barely reached the subway platform when my phone buzzed with an incoming call from her. The moment I picked up, she shrieked through the speaker: "Taylor, what the hell is wrong with you?! Did you show up today just to steal my spotlight?!" "Let me tell you something: don't you dare step foot in this house ever again! It's either you or me in this family! Pick one!" "Mom and Dad will NEVER admit you're their daughter! You're nothing!" She vented like a maniac, spitting poison into the receiver. I stayed eerily calm. Just as I opened my mouth to respond, a panicked voice shouted from her background: "Chloe! Your mic was live! The entire stream heard every word!"