I'm Nick, the middle child caught between two sisters. Brit is my older sister, and Mia is our younger one. Mia was the sun in our parents' universe. She was their miracle baby, the one who "wasn't supposed to survive" due to an illness. Luckily, she made it. And Brit? She was just… there.

I grew up watching the imbalance, but as a kid, I didn't have the words for it. I just knew that when Brit got an A+, my parents barely looked up from their phones, but when Mia won "Participant of the Week" in soccer, they bought her a cake.

"Look what I drew, Mom!" Brit's excited voice echoed through the kitchen one afternoon, holding up a detailed sketch of our family. Mom glanced at it briefly, muttering a distracted, "That's nice, dear" before turning back to Mia's soccer schedule.

Brit loved to draw, but when she asked for an art set, my parents said it was "too expensive." Mia decided she liked art a week later. Guess who got a full set of professional-grade supplies?

I remember Brit looking at me once when we were kids, her voice trembling. "Am I invisible, Nick? Sometimes I stand in front of the mirror just to make sure I'm still here."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I was 10. I didn't know how to answer that. All I could do was hug her tight and feel her tears soak into my shirt.

By the time we were teenagers, Mia's obsession with being "better" than Brit had gone from petty to straight-up psychotic. She stole Brit's crush — just because she could. She cut Brit's hair in her sleep once, giggling the next morning like it was some harmless prank.

"It's just hair, Brit," Mom had said dismissively when Brit came down sobbing. "It'll grow back. Mia was just having a bit of fun."

"Fun?" Brit's voice cracked. "You call this fun? She waited until I was asleep! She —"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Dad cut in. "Your sister would never hurt you intentionally."

Brit swallowed her tears for years. And in college, Mia stole her boyfriend.

That was it. Brit was DONE. She cut all ties, walked away, and built a life without them… and without us. She found happiness with Patrick, though everyone just called him "Pit." He was the kind of guy who would fight a bear for her if he had to.

She was finally free. Until she got pregnant. And suddenly, our parents wanted to "reconnect."

Brit hesitated but agreed to a family dinner. She told me she was cautiously hopeful.

"Maybe, just maybe, they'd finally changed," she said.

I wanted to believe that too. I should've known better. Because Mia saw Brit's return as an opportunity to twist the knife one last time.

Dinner started civil enough that evening. Brit was guarded, Pit was tense, and my parents were laying it on thick. "We're just so happy to have you back, sweetheart," Mom kept saying, smiling way too wide.

Mia was sitting there, twirling the stem of her wine glass, watching... and waiting.

"So, Brit," she drawled, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "how's the pregnancy going? No complications, I hope? Though with your... history of anxiety, I imagine it must be so stressful."

Pit's hand tightened around his fork. "She's doing wonderfully, actually."

And then, right when the conversation felt safe, Mia struck.

She stood, lifting her glass, her voice oozing with fake sympathy. "Brit, I know it must be hard for you, seeing your ex as my husband, but thank you for the blessing. Competing with me must have been exhausting, but I applaud your bravery for showing up."

Brit was horrified.

Pit's jaw clenched. I could see the restraint in his shoulders and the way his fingers curled against the table. He was about to say something. But before he could, someone else did.

Our cousin, Helen, stood first, raising her glass.

"Actually, I'd like to toast Brit." She turned to her, voice firm. "You've been the best cousin anyone could ask for. You helped me through college, gave me a place to stay when I had nowhere to go. Remember that night I called you at 3 a.m., having a complete breakdown? You drove two hours just to sit with me. Brit, you're incredible!"

Then our aunt. "Brit, you were the first to help when my son was sick. You didn't even hesitate. You stayed up all night in that hospital room, telling him stories and making him laugh even when the pain was bad. You've always been the kindest and most selfless person in this family."

More voices joined in.

"Brit drove me to job interviews when I had no car."

"She helped me plan my wedding when I was overwhelmed."

"She took care of Grandma when no one else would."

"Remember when you found me crying in the bathroom at prom?" our cousin Sarah spoke up, her voice laced with emotion. "After my date stood me up? You wiped my tears, fixed my makeup, and danced with me all night. You made me feel like I mattered."

I felt a lump in my throat as I looked at Brit, her eyes wide and stunned.

I pushed my chair back and stood. "Brit, you were the best sister I could've asked for. You always put others before yourself... even when no one put YOU first. When I was struggling with math in high school, you tutored me every single night, even though you had your own exams to study for. You never once complained."

One by one, voices filled the room. Brit was showered with praises and a chorus of love and recognition.