Scintilla: a tiny trace or spark of a specified quality or feeling.

When I was seven, I was passing through the school age. At this stage, I was either going to emerge competitive or I would go downhill towards the pits of inferiority complex.

I emerged to be competitive.

Competition, the struggle to survive, to reach the top of the chain was my main aim. In simple  
words, I yearned to be the top priority of my teachers, my classfellows, and my family.

I did succeed in my struggles because the sleepy child had long gone and was replaced with an energetic and a stubborn child.

I was at the top until, one day, I was given the news of a new addition to my family.

That fateful day when my baby brother was born was also the day when I got my first punishment. It was a rude awakening, a reminder for me that the things were no longer going to be the same.

The reason for being punished was my lack of enthusiasm or lack of interest in seeing him.

When I did see my brother, he was as beautiful as a one day child is.

That was also the day when I met her, the green-eyed monster. She was standing in the corner of the hospital room gazing at me expectantly. First, she was a blur image that sharpened when I saw my parents looking at my baby brother with so much love. It was like I had become a second thing to them.

When our eyes connected again, I did feel a spark of her in my veins, a scintilla of her, the green-eyed girl.