“Let it go, let it go!” Mina sang with the animated queen, her small voice full of joy. She snuggled close on the couch, clutching her soft, old blanket. It was our first calm moment since I came home for the holiday break, and I treasured every bit.
“Still your favorite film, huh?” I teased, gently messing her reddish-brown hair.
She giggled. “Always!”
Mina was only eight, but she’d been through a lot.
After Mom passed two years ago, it was just Dad and us for a short while. Then Lenna came.
She wasn’t mean, but cold and distant.
Her smiles were just for Dad; with us alone, she got snappy. I left for college a year later, leaving Mina, which always troubled me. But now, we were together, watching her favorite movie again.
“Have a good Christmas?” I asked, keeping my tone easy.
She nodded happily. “Yep!
Daddy got me a doll. Lenna gave me pencils.”
“Pencils?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” she chirped, shrugging.
“The twisty ones. They’re okay.”
A spark of worry hit me. “What about Grandma and Grandpa?
Or Aunt Talia?
Did they give you anything?”
“They gave me money,” she whispered, her voice quieter. I smiled warmly.
“That’s awesome, Mina! What’ll you buy?”
Her face fell, and she fiddled nervously with her blanket.
“It’s gone.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning closer, heart racing.
Her voice dropped low. “Lenna took it. She said I had too many gifts.
She used it for groceries because Christmas dinner cost a lot.”
My stomach twisted.
“All of it?”
She nodded, tears in her eyes. “I had three hundred dollars, but Lenna said I wouldn’t spend it right.”
I stared, anger rising.
My sweet sister. Three hundred dollars.
Stolen.
“Mina, who gave you the money? Did you count it?”
“Grandma gave $100, Grandpa gave $100, and Aunt Talia gave $100. We counted at Grandma’s before we came home.”
“And Lenna took it?” I asked, voice tight.
“She said she’d keep it safe, but I never got it back,” Mina mumbled, staring at her hands.
My anger flared. How could she?
How could an adult take money from an eight-year-old and call it “groceries”? “Are you sure she used it for Christmas dinner?” I pressed, voice barely calm.
“She said so, but I saw her mall bag.”
My fists clenched, my mind spinning with fury and shock.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
TAP → NEXT PAGE → 👇
