Mother Piao was about to buy one sweater, but Angel stopped her.
"Can we get two?" she asked.
Mother Piao agreed.
The sweaters were too big for the seven-year-old sisters.
Angel asked for multiple sizes.
"So me and Angela can always twin," she said.
Mother Piao agreed once more.
The set was purchased.
Years later,
Angel looked back at the secret closet shelves.
Each box was labeled, ordered by date, mostly undisturbed.
She touched the worn sweater, feeling its roughness, aware it was slowly falling apart.
Angel had kept a secret from her sister—
She also never told anyone else.
In fact, she hadn't asked for this private dressing room.
Her mother had suggested putting these sweaters in a hidden area so that if Angela ever remembered, she could choose to twin.
At the time, Angel had refused.
She hadn't expected her sister to remember and had wanted to burn the sweaters, believing there was no reason to keep them.
But Mother Piao had knelt in front of her, looked her in the eyes, and said:
"What about this? I know you want to be in the military soon, now that you're 13, to get away from your sister and all that, to help regulate your emotions. What if I put a separate area just for you to store your uniform?"
Angel blinked.
"And what does that have to do with the sweaters?"
"Well," Mother Piao continued, "that area has another coded section. A secret chamber. Anything you put there—only you have the key. Nobody else, not even me, can open it. It's as if it doesn't exist. You can store anything, and it might as well be dead to the world."
Angel scoffed.
Mother Piao laughed.
"It's unnecessary, I know. Everyone in the mansion will leave in a few days, gone for about a week. That should give you enough time to do as you need, without anyone knowing."
When they left, after two days of contemplation, Angel had slowly moved the sweaters to that secret space.
To keep her mother unaware, she had burned some random sticks in the barren area as a decoy, making it seem like she had discarded them.
Now,
Standing in her secret treasure trove,
Angel searched for the box matching her sister's current size.
She found it, opened it, and pulled out a sweater—
Still in its packaging, pink with playful squiggly prints along the sleeves, bottom, and arms.
She recalled why she had never given her sister the sweater.
At home, something terrible had happened.
Angela had done something reckless, ending up in a coma.
When she had finally regained consciousness, she hadn't recognized Angel.
The young Angel had been devastated.
Even when she had tried to talk to her mother about it, she had refused to discuss it further.
Her sister had forgotten her entirely.
Back then, Angel had felt betrayal more than hatred.
She had truly valued her sister, and the fact that Angela had forgotten her—after being told not to do what caused it—had hurt deeply.
Over time,
Angela had briefly recognized her family again,
But she had never remembered the years before.
She had never given Angel the promised pants.
Angel realized that any attempt to revive that past promise was futile.
She closed the old box, then carefully grabbed the pink sweater from the newer box, leaving the slightly purple one untouched.
Angela loved pink; Angel preferred purple.
She carefully closed the secret room,
Making sure the door clicked shut behind her and fell seemingly back into the wall.
She stepped back, glancing once more at the hidden place that held her memories, her past hopes, and the untouched baby sweater.
With the new-size pink sweater clutched in her hand, she began to walk out of her walk-in closet. Her steps were slow but deliberate.
She knew the options from the main closet area were nothing to scoff at.
Her mother had really gone above and beyond to get the fluffiest, fuzziest clothes one could ever imagine.
Back when she had explored the main dressing closet,
She had realized the only semi-decent, somewhat formal items were the pants and slippers. Everything else was from Fluffyland onwards, if there ever was such a thing.
This closet would probably be their staple clothing.
She sighed.
She couldn't leave her sister heading to the council meeting looking like a full-blown clown.
Out of the lesser of the options available,
She chose the patterned sweater she had always wished for them to twin with,
For her sister to wear—
Even if it brought back terrible memories she had long buried.
She paused slightly, letting herself feel the weight of the sweater in her hands.
Its design was the same as the one she had worn many times in her younger days.
Ever since that incident,
She had worn it once a week over months and years, hoping that through it, Angela might remember, might notice, or maybe—even just ask—why she always wore that sweater.
Any slight curiosity from her sister would have been enough.
She had been willing to spill everything,
Despite her mother's warnings.
But now…
It was too late.
Angela moved toward the door.
Everything was over.
I must move on,
She finally told herself,
Letting the past remain where it belonged.
She was no longer a child.
She had to face the present.
From the other side of the walk-in closet, a voice broke the silence.
"Hey, Angel! I'm done dressing up. Are you ready yet? Can we go? Oh, and yeah—something happened, so I need to ask you about something!"