When she made mistakes, I was told to be understanding.
When she stole attention, I was told I already had enough.
And maybe that was where the wound began.
Not with Paige.
With all of us.
With a family that confused peace with silence.
Paige kept reading.
“You and Clara were never meant to be enemies. But somewhere along the way, I watched you both start competing for love that was already yours.”
My throat tightened.
I had spent years telling myself Paige was selfish. I had made a whole story out of it because anger was easier than sadness.
But Mom’s words were cutting through every version of the story I had built.
Paige wiped her face with the back of her hand, careful not to smear her makeup, still trying to hold herself together.
Then she read the next line.
“If you wore white to your sister’s wedding, I know what people will think. They will think you wanted to steal her day. Maybe part of you did. But I think another part of you wanted someone to stop you. Someone to see how lost you have been.”
