Growing up, my sister Brittany never had to fight for attention—it just followed her. She was louder, brighter, impossible to ignore. People called her charming. Confident. Beautiful. And when you’re the quieter one standing next to someone like that, you learn quickly how to shrink without being asked. If I brought home good grades, she’d show up with a trophy. If someone complimented me, she’d turn it into a performance about herself. Our parents didn’t mean to favor her—but they did. And I became the one who kept things smooth, who swallowed reactions, who chose peace over being seen. Years...
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