My eyes burned again.
Paige lifted her glass.
“So here’s to my sister and my new brother-in-law. May your marriage be full of truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. May your home never confuse silence with peace. And may I become the kind of sister who deserves a seat at your table.”
She looked down for a second.
“Even if it’s a small seat. Far from the cake. With supervision.”
The room laughed.
This time, with her.
Not at her.
I raised my glass.
“To new beginnings,” I said.
And I meant it.
Not clean beginnings.
Not easy ones.
New.
That was enough.
Three months after the wedding, Paige started therapy.
I know because she sent me a picture of the building from the parking lot with the message:
I almost drove away. Didn’t.
I replied:
Proud of you.
She didn’t answer for six hours.
Then she wrote:
