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MidReal Story
The Makeup Effect
Scenario:Alors que Tori avait neuf ans , sa sœur jumelle intello fut retrouvé, Tori autre fois une maquilleuse qui avait un grand talent et qui était chéri par ses parents était MTN délaissée, elle qui pensait que cela n'allait duré que quelques temps mais non elle a été ignore malgré son talent et les nombreux prix en maquillage qu'elle gagnait car sa sœur était en stage à la NASA et rapportait plus d'argent, alors qu'elle s'était trouvé un emploi chez une gentille maquilleuse professionnelle appelé Lucie Peterson elle décida de quitter ses parents et de ce faire adopter par lucie
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Tori
She is a talented makeup artist with a history of being overshadowed by her more academically gifted twin sister. She is determined, resourceful, and resilient. Despite her natural talent and awardwinning portfolio, she struggled to find recognition and respect in the maledominated industry. Her parents, though wellintentioned but selfcentered, neglected her achievements and continuously compared her to her sister. Tori chose to escape her unhappy home life and seek a new family through adoption with the kind support of Lucie Peterson.
Lucie Peterson
She is a renowned makeup artist with her own line and a kind heart. She is compassionate, generous, and perceptive. Lucie took Tori under her wing when she interned with her, recognizing the talent beyond Tori's sibling shadow. Despite her own success, she remained approachable and genuinely supportive of Tori. Lucie even considered adopting Tori when she hinted about leaving her troubled family background behind. Her genuine connection with Tori provided a sense of belonging and purpose.
Zara
She is Tori's intellectually gifted twin sister, who excelled in school and pursued a career at NASA. She is caring, supportive, and competitive. Although she never intentionally set out to overshadow her twin, her accomplishments and dedication to her craft led to their uneven success ratio. Despite the tension between them, Zara remained a constant source of comparison for Tori. However, Zara eventually helped initiate the transition for Tori by suggesting she leave their troubled family home behind.
When I was nine years old, my parents found my twin.
I’d been their only children for nine monotonous years, and then I was shoved to the side as they discovered their real daughter.
Her name was Zara, and she was intellectually gifted—everything I wasn’t.
Before that fateful day, I had been a wonderful child, or so I’ve been told.
My parents loved me, and I was good at applying makeup, which was a talent not many nine-year-olds possessed.
I even won a few awards for my work, but that didn’t matter once they found my twin.
For some reason, they believed she was the good twin because she excelled in school.
She got straight A’s every quarter, lettered in three sports, and went on to win a full scholarship to Harvard University.
I sit cross-legged on my bedroom floor, surrounded by my collection of high-end makeup brushes and palettes.
The mirror I propped against my wall reflects my determined expression as I practice the innovative gradient technique I learned from Lucie yesterday.
My hand trembles slightly while blending the third shade—I’ve been working on this for the past hour, and it has to be perfect.
From downstairs, I hear my parents congratulating Zara on her latest NASA accomplishment over dinner.
The familiar ache rises in my chest, but I push it down.
I don’t have time for that right now.
Instead, I focus on the precise strokes of my brush, the way it glides across my eyelid with ease.
"Why do you always hide up here when Zara's around?" my friend Mia asks, leaning against the doorframe.
I pause, brush hovering mid-air, and reply, "Because it's easier to blend eyeshadow than to blend into her world."
Mia steps closer, her voice softening, "Maybe it's time you show them your world instead."
After another lonely evening, I gather my courage and write a formal invitation to my parents.
My hands shake as I carefully script the words on elegant cardstock from my collection.
I explain that Lucie has invited me to demonstrate a makeup look for an upcoming bride at her studio, transforming her for her wedding day.
I spend hours perfecting my calligraphy, determined to make it flawless.
Finally, I slide the envelope under their bedroom door.
From the other side, I hear them discussing Zara's latest achievement.
I retreat to my room, where I begin organizing my professional kit, meticulously arranging brushes and palettes in order of use.
The next morning, my mother finds me in the kitchen, holding the invitation with a puzzled expression.
"Sweetheart, is this really necessary?" she asks, glancing at the card.
I take a deep breath and meet her eyes, "Yes, because it's time you see what I'm capable of too."
I'm demonstrating a complex bridal makeup look on my model at Lucie's studio.
Mia arrives early for her appointment, and I can see my parents sitting stiffly in the corner, checking their phones.
I explain each technique I use, from the base layer to the intricate eyeshadow details.
My mother glances up occasionally, her eyes widening slightly as I create a perfect gradient with the eyeshadow.
She returns to typing on her phone when it buzzes—probably another update from Zara.
I maintain my professional composure, carefully applying individual lashes while describing the importance of proper adhesive technique.
Just as I'm setting the final touches with a finishing spray, Mia rushes toward me, waving her phone wildly.
"Your parents just texted—they want to talk after the show."
I mist the final layer of setting spray over my model's face, letting the pearlescent particles settle.
I avoid eye contact with my parents in the corner, focusing on the glow of the model's skin under the studio lights - exactly the effect I wanted for the bridal look.
As I pack away my brushes, methodically cleaning each one and arranging them in their designated slots, Mia hovers nearby with an encouraging smile.
My hands shake slightly while closing the makeup case, but I square my shoulders and turn to face the waiting area.
My parents stand there awkwardly, my mother clutching her phone while my father adjusts his tie.
I walk across Lucie's studio floor, each step echoing against the polished concrete.
The distance between my workstation and where my parents stand feels longer than usual.
My makeup brushes are still damp from cleaning, their bristles leaving wet marks on my palm as I grip them tighter.
Mom's phone screen lights up again - probably another text from Zara - but she silences it without looking.
Dad loosens his tie further, creating uneven loops that would normally bother him.
I stop three feet away from them, close enough to see mom's perfectly applied lipstick starting to fade at the corners.
"Mom, Dad, what did you want to talk about?" I ask, my voice steady despite the tension.
My father clears his throat, "We... we didn't realize how talented you are, and we want to support you more."
My mother nods, her eyes softening, "Yes, we were wrong to focus so much on Zara; your work is truly impressive."
I pause mid-sentence as the studio lights flicker overhead.
The fluorescent bulbs stutter, casting strange shadows across my parents' faces.
Dad stops fidgeting with his tie, and mom's phone slips forgotten into her purse.
A dull thud echoes from the storage room, making me turn my head toward the sound.
It's where Lucie keeps her most expensive makeup supplies.
My stomach tightens as I take a step toward the noise, but Mia grabs my arm, whispering, "I heard footsteps earlier."
I step toward the storage room door, ignoring Mia's grip on my arm.
The studio lights continue to flicker, casting erratic shadows across my parents' worried faces.
A metallic scraping sound echoes from behind the door, followed by another thud.
My father moves to stand between us and the storage room, while my mother fumbles with her phone, trying to turn on the flashlight.
The temperature drops suddenly, making my skin prickle.
I reach for the door handle just as all the lights go out completely.
I fumble with the door handle in complete darkness, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Behind me, mom's phone screen casts weak light, illuminating dad's worried expression as he whispers for me to step back.
My fingers finally find the cold metal of the handle and I turn it with a metallic click.
The door creaks open slowly, revealing a sliver of darkness inside.
A shuffling sound comes from inside, followed by what sounds like bottles rolling across the floor.
I feel my way along the wall, searching for the light switch.
My fingers finally find it and flip it.
The fluorescent lights sputter back to life, casting an eerie glow over the room.
Lucie is sprawled on the floor among scattered makeup cases, giggling as she tries to gather foundation bottles that have rolled under shelves.
"Lucie, what are you doing here?" I ask, my voice a mix of confusion and relief.
She looks up, her laughter subsiding into a sheepish grin, "I wanted to surprise you with a new collection setup, but clearly, I surprised myself instead."
Dad steps forward, shaking his head with a chuckle, "Well, you certainly know how to keep us on our toes."