I Will Love Myself Chapter 01
The summer I turned eighteen, I ran into my forty-two-year-old self outside a scrapyard.
She slid out of the supercar of my dreams, an LV limited‑edition bag dangling from her arm.
Thrilled, I grabbed her arm. “I actually turn out to be that successful? Does Mom and Dad finally like me more than Rach?”
She lit a cigarette, looked at me through the smoke, and smiled. “Nope.”
A chill ran through me. “That can’t be true,” I said through gritted teeth. “If I’m good enough, they’ll—”
“Don’t believe me?” she interrupted. “Let’s bet. See if they love you. If I win, you come with me.”
“And if you lose?” I blurted.
The second our eyes met, her smile faltered. “I won’t. I already know how this ends.”
I didn’t believe a word my forty-two-year-old self said.
For as long as I could remember, my parents had always loved my sister, Rachel Boone, more. I understand why.
She was smarter, got better grades, and always knew how to make them laugh.
But things were different now.
For two years, the top student in class had been staying an extra hour after school to tutor me ever since I begged her.
Subjects that once felt impossible finally clicked once she broke them down.
After stacks of worksheets and drills, my grades shot up.
More importantly, my homeroom teacher had just told me I’d been accepted early into one of the best universities in the country.
The admission letter would come next week.
With that in mind, I didn’t look back at my older self. I took the money I’d earned from selling scrap and headed to the market.
I bought beef, my favorite.
My family didn’t like beef, so we seldom had it.
Clutching the bag, I walked faster. The moment had already played in my head countless times.
I’d go through the door, hold up the beef, and break the news.
They’d smile, right?
Maybe Mom would ruffle my hair, and Dad would finally say, “Our Elle’s amazing.”
Holding onto that hope, I pushed the door open. “Mom, I’ve got good news—”
Something slammed into my face before I could finish.
There was a heavy thud, then a sharp sting.
My vision blurred for a second before I saw the apple rolling across the floor.
My Mom Mary stood a few steps away, her face livid. “Rach bombed her SAT, and you come in all excited, yelling like that?”
Only then did I notice Rachel on the couch, eyes red from crying.
“No,” I said quickly. “That’s not… I was trying to tell you I got—”
My Dad David cut me off with a cold snort, then turned to Mom. “This is how you raised her. Rach’s upset, and she’s just gloating.”
Mom bristled, her brows knitting. “What do you mean, how I raised her?” she snapped. “She’s your daughter, too.”
“She’s so selfish that she can’t stand Rach doing well. You seriously don’t know who she gets that from?” Dad shot back.
“Oh, come on. She’s basically you, okay?”
“Me?” he snorted. “That’s rich. You’re the one—”
“Stop it!”
Rachel’s voice cracked as she yelled.
The room went quiet. They both turned to her.
“Alright, alright, we’re done,” Dad said quickly.
“Rach, honey, it’s okay. Don’t be sad,” Mom said, “It’s just a test. Really, it’s fine. You can retake it. We’ve got you.”
They closed in around Rachel, talking to her in low, soothing voices. I stood off to the side, completely ignored.
No one asked how my SAT went. No one asked what I was aiming for. Like always.