When karma spoke

People always said twins shared the same soul, but my twin sister and I were proof that this was not always true. We looked alike, talked alike, and even smiled alike, yet our hearts were very different. I loved her deeply, more than I loved anyone else in the world. She was my other half, my mirror, my secret keeper—or so I thought.
Growing up, I defended her even when others complained about her lies. Whenever trouble came, she always found a way to push the blame on me. If something went missing, she said I took it. If a fight happened, she said I started it. At first, I thought it was a mistake. After all, how could someone who shared my blood wish me harm?
But as the years passed, her lies became sharper and more painful. She lied to our parents, to our friends, even to strangers. She painted me as the wicked twin and herself as the innocent one. I cried many nights, confused and broken, wondering what I had done wrong to deserve such betrayal.
Still, I loved her. Love can be blind, especially when it is tied with family. I kept forgiving her, hoping she would change. I prayed for her, covered her shame, and stayed silent when speaking up could have saved me. I told myself, She is my twin. One day she will realize how much I care.
Instead, she grew bolder. She used my kindness as a weapon against me. She set traps with lies and watched me fall into them. Sometimes she smiled while I was being punished for her sins. That smile haunted me more than the pain itself.
One day, tired and empty, I decided to stop fighting. I stopped explaining myself. I stopped begging to be believed. I chose peace over revenge. I focused on my life, my growth, and my healing. I let the truth sleep, trusting that time would wake it up.
And then karma arrived quietly, patiently, and without my help.
Her lies caught up with her. People began to notice the cracks in her stories. The same tongue she used to destroy me betrayed her. Those she deceived turned away. Trust, once broken too many times, refused to return. She stood alone in the web she had woven.
When the truth finally came out, it was loud. Everything she accused me of pointed back at her. I watched from a distance, not with joy, but with understanding. Karma did not come to destroy her it came to teach her.
She came to me one evening, eyes heavy with regret. For the first time, she told the truth. She apologized, not just with words, but with tears. In that moment, I realized something powerful: karma does not need our anger to work. It only needs time.
I forgave her, not because she deserved it, but because I deserved peace. Loving her had hurt me, but holding hate would have destroyed me.