Maya Miller grew more and more nervous under Mia's intense gaze, her face stiff as she said, "Sis, what's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Mia gave her a deep, unreadable look and said, "You look nice today, but that flower on your head is ugly. Let me take it off for you."
As soon as she finished, she didn't care whether Maya Miller was happy or not, reached out and pulled the pink flower from Maya's head, tossed it to the ground, and stomped it hard.
It was immediately mashed into mud.
Maya Miller's face went pale, her eyes filled with anger, but she held back and didn't lash out, only muttering softly, "If you don't like it, I won't wear it anymore."
Mia shot her a contemptuous glance—this little sister had always been like this, bullied but never daring to speak up.
So boring.
She snorted and walked away disdainfully.
Maya Miller stared at Mia's departing back, biting her teeth in secret, her face gloomy.
This wretched female, she's just way too much.
