A soft murmur of conversation filled the room as a cluster of women flitted between high tables, clutching sparkling name badges and pastel lanyards. The air smelled faintly of cucumber sandwiches and ambition.

Kristin’s heels clicked decisively on the polished floor; she practised a triumphant smile in her mind, already picturing the applause as she strode up to the stage.

Across the room, Katrin moved with leisurely grace, offering polite nods and gentle laughter to every newcomer. She wore an amused smile—one eyebrow arched as she watched her sister’s eager pirouette toward the spotlight.

To Katrin, this wasn’t just another award ceremony, but that rare moment when life hands out poetic justice and she planned to savour every second.

The room fell silent as the host stepped up to the microphone. Kristin’s heart thudded like a bass drum in a chart-topping track. She pictured her name in bold letters, the camera flash, the envy in every competitor’s eye.

As the host cleared his throat and announced, “This year’s winner… Katrin Schneider,”

Kristin felt the floor tilt. The laughter and applause ricocheted around her, but her name—her name! —was never spoken.

Kristin’s cheeks blazed crimson; her poised posture crumbled into a mortified slump. She managed a weak clap; eyes fixed on her sister glittering under the spotlight.

Katrin stepped forward, award in hand, and leaned close. “What comes around, comes around,” she whispered, voice sweet as champagne.

Then, louder for the crowd: “Karma is a bitch—cheers to that!” She raised her trophy high, while

Kristin stood stunned, one heel caught in awkward defeat.