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And just like that, all the years come crashing into me.

Not one memory.

Hundreds.

The toys I gave up because Melida cried until Mother told me to be a good big sister.

The lessons that went to her because her magic was stronger and therefore more deserving of attention.

The clothes.

The birthdays.

The praise.

The time.

The boyfriends—yes, you heard me.

Melida took three of my dates before I learned to stop bringing them home.

In this moment, all of those memories flooded my brain.

Even the stupid little things that shouldn't matter anymore but somehow do.

Fact was, if I had something Melida wanted, I was expected to step aside.

You're older, Belinda.

Be generous.

You know how sensitive your sister is.

It means more to her.

And the worst part?

I did it.

Again and again.

Because I wanted my mother to look at me the way she looked at Melida.

I wanted to be good enough.

Useful enough.

Easy enough.

Maybe if I gave away enough pieces of myself, eventually they'd love what remained.

Except there was never enough. I swallow the lump in my throat.

Not this time.

Instead, I do something I’ve never done before. Not in my thirty-eight years on this planet.

So yeah, this is long overdue.