For years, my parents let my younger sister, Mia, steal everything from my older sister, Brit. She stole her dreams, her joy, and even her boyfriend. When Brit returned for a family gathering, pregnant and hopeful, Mia tried to take one last thing.
But our family didn’t let her get away with it. I’m Nick, the middle child caught between two sisters. Brit is my older sister, and Mia is our younger one.
Mia was the sun in our parents’ universe. She was their miracle baby, the one who “wasn’t supposed to survive” due to an illness. Luckily, she made it.
And Brit? She was just… there. I grew up watching the imbalance, but as a kid, I didn’t have the words for it.
I just knew that when Brit got an A+, my parents barely looked up from their phones, but when Mia won “Participant of the Week” in soccer, they bought her a cake. “Look what I drew, Mom!” Brit’s excited voice echoed through the kitchen one afternoon, holding up a detailed sketch of our family. Mom glanced at it briefly, muttering a distracted, “That’s nice, dear” before turning back to Mia’s soccer schedule.
Brit loved to draw, but when she asked for an art set, my parents said it was “too expensive.” Mia decided she liked art a week later. Guess who got a full set of professional-grade supplies? I remember Brit looking at me once when we were kids, her voice trembling.
“Am I invisible, Nick? Sometimes I stand in front of the mirror just to make sure I’m still here.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I was 10.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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