I’d always been the good daughter. The dependable one. The peacekeeper. If there was a birthday to remember, a chore to do without being asked, or a moment to bite my tongue for the sake of harmony, that was me—Amelia. For thirty-one years, I kept that rhythm going like background music at a dinner party. Predictable. Pleasant. Forgettable. But all it took was one seat—one smooth leather seat in first class—to break the soundtrack of my life wide open. Let me take you back. I’m the oldest of three. My sister, Sarah, is two years younger. My brother, Jake, the...
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