TO HATE IS DIVINE

My eyes followed Dorian as he moved through the crowd. He had this way of drawing people in, like gravity. Everyone wanted to be near him, to bask in his glow. I couldn't blame them—it was hard not to like Dorian.

But as I watched him, I felt something shift inside me.

I'd always admired him once, back when we were kids. He was my brother, my twin, someone I should have been close to. But over the years, that admiration had curdled into something darker. It wasn't just jealousy—it was resentment.

Dorian had everything I wanted. Approval. Attention. Success. And he made it look effortless.

I thought about all the times I'd celebrated his victories, clapping and smiling while my own accomplishments were met with polite nods or quick pats on the back. The unfairness of it all gnawed at me, and for the first time, I let myself linger on the thought: I hate him.

The realization was startling, but also… freeing.

I hated the way he stole the spotlight without even trying. I hated the way he could make people laugh with a single word while I stumbled over conversations. I hated the way my parents looked at him with pride, a look I'd been chasing my whole life.

Most of all, I hated how easy it was for him to be loved.

The more I thought about it, the more my resentment grew. Dorian didn't just take the spotlight—he consumed it, leaving nothing for anyone else. Even now, as the room buzzed with his accomplishments, I couldn't help but feel invisible.

I imagined what it would be like to switch places with him, just for a day. To see my parents look at me with that same unreserved pride. To hear my name spoken with the same reverence.

But that wasn't how the world worked, was it? Dorian would always be the star, and I'd always be in the background. Unless…

A new thought began to take root, dark and insidious.

What if Dorian wasn't the golden twin anymore?

The idea was intoxicating. For once, I wanted him to feel what I felt—to be overlooked, ignored, forgotten. I wanted him to know what it was like to live in someone else's shadow.

It wasn't just a passing thought. It was a seed, planted deep in my mind, and I could feel it starting to grow.

When I finally returned to the living room, the party was over. The guests were gone, and the house was quiet. Dorian was sitting on the couch, his tie loosened and his champagne glass empty.

"Good night?" he asked, looking up at me with that same easy smile.

I nodded, forcing another smile. "Yeah. Great night."

He didn't notice the tension in my voice or the tightness in my jaw. Why would he? Dorian never noticed.

As I climbed the stairs to my room, the silence of the house felt heavy, almost suffocating. But in that silence, my resolve only grew stronger.

This wasn't just about me anymore. It was about making him feel what I had felt all these years.

And for the first time in my life, I didn't feel helpless. I felt powerful.