For years, my parents let my younger sister, Mia, steal everything from my older sister, Brit. She took her happiness, her dreams, and even her boyfriend. It was as if Brit’s life was a store where Mia could just walk in and take whatever she wanted, while our parents cheered her on. But when Brit came back for a family gathering, pregnant and hopeful, Mia tried to take one last thing. And this time, we didn’t let her.
I’m Nick, the middle child, stuck between my two sisters. Brit is my older sister—the one who always had to be strong. Mia is the youngest, the so-called miracle baby. She was born sick, and for a while, the doctors weren’t sure she would make it. But she did. And because of that, my parents treated her like she was made of gold. Brit, on the other hand? She was just… there. The afterthought.
I noticed it growing up, but I didn’t have the words for it back then. I only knew that when Brit got an A+, our parents barely looked up from their phones, but when Mia won “Participant of the Week” in soccer, they threw a celebration.
One day, Brit ran into the kitchen, beaming, holding up a drawing of our family. “Look what I drew, Mom!” she said, eyes bright with excitement. The sketch was detailed and beautiful, full of life and color.
Mom glanced at it for half a second. “That’s nice, dear,” she muttered, barely looking away from Mia’s soccer schedule.
Brit loved drawing. It made her happy. But when she asked for a real art set, our parents said it was “too expensive.” A week later, Mia decided she wanted to try art. And suddenly, she had a full set of professional supplies—paints, pencils, everything.
One night, Brit sat next to me in our room, her voice barely above a whisper. “Am I invisible, Nick?” she asked, her hands twisting in her lap. “Sometimes I stand in front of the mirror just to make sure I’m still here.”
I was only ten. I didn’t know how to answer that. So I just hugged her. I felt her tears soak through my shirt, but I didn’t pull away. I wanted her to know I saw her, even if no one else did.
By the time we were teenagers, Mia’s need to be the best had gone from annoying to cruel. She stole Brit’s crush—just because she could. She once cut Brit’s hair while she slept, giggling the next morning like it was some harmless joke.
Brit came downstairs in tears, staring at the uneven strands in the mirror. “Mia cut my hair in my sleep!” she cried.
Mom barely looked up. “It’s just hair, Brit. It’ll grow back.”
Brit’s voice shook. “She waited until I was asleep! She—”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Dad said, waving her off. “Your sister would never hurt you on purpose.”
Brit swallowed her pain for years. Until college. That’s when Mia did the worst thing yet—she stole Brit’s boyfriend.
That was it. Brit was done. She walked away and never looked back. She built a life without them. Without us.
She met Patrick, though everyone just called him “Pit.” He was tough, loyal, and would have fought a bear for her if he had to. For the first time, Brit had someone who chose her first.
She was free. Until she got pregnant. And suddenly, our parents wanted to “reconnect.”
She hesitated but agreed to a family dinner. “Maybe they’ve changed,” she told me. “Maybe, just maybe, they really mean it this time.”
I wanted to believe that too. But deep down, I knew better.
The evening started off polite, almost normal. Brit was cautious. Pit was tense. My parents put on their best “loving family” act.
“We’re so happy to have you back, sweetheart,” Mom said, smiling too wide.
Mia sat there, swirling her wine glass, waiting for the right moment to strike.
“So, Brit,” she said, her voice sugary sweet. “How’s the pregnancy going? No complications, I hope? With your history of anxiety, I imagine it must be so stressful.”
Pit’s grip on his fork tightened. “She’s doing wonderfully, actually.”
And then, Mia went in for the kill.
She stood up, raising her glass. “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 admire your bravery for showing up.”
Brit’s face drained of color.
Pit’s jaw clenched. His fingers curled into a fist. But before he could speak, someone else did.
Helen, our cousin, stood first, lifting her glass. “Actually, I’d like to toast Brit.” She turned to her, her voice unwavering. “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. Brit, you’re incredible.”
Then our aunt spoke up. “Brit, you stayed up all night with my son when he was sick. You didn’t even hesitate. You told him stories, made him laugh, and gave him comfort when no one else did.”
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.”
Mia sat there, frozen, waiting for someone to turn the spotlight back to her. But no one did. For the first time, she was invisible.
She turned to our parents, desperate. And they did exactly what I expected.
Mom straightened, her voice sharp. “Alright, enough of this nonsense. Mia is here too! No matter what, she’s special. She’s our miracle!”
Helen’s eyes narrowed. “Special how? By ruining Brit’s life?”
That’s when Pit stood up. His voice was calm, but his words cut like a knife. “You keep calling her the light of this family. But tell me, who has she ever truly cared for? Not Brit. Not even me, considering how often she tried to flirt with me behind Brit’s back.”
Mia’s face went scarlet. “That’s not—”
Pit shook his head. “Brit builds people up. And Mia? She only knows how to tear them down.”
A heavy silence filled the room. My parents opened their mouths, searching for a defense. But they had nothing.
Mia shot to her feet. “You’re all against me! You’re jealous! I will always be the special one!”
No one reacted. No one argued. She was alone.
With a strangled noise, she stormed out, slamming the door.
Brit wiped her eyes, smiling. “For years, I thought I wasn’t enough. But looking around this table now… I realize I was never the problem.”
Pit kissed her temple. “You were always more than enough.”
“The baby kicked,” Brit whispered, placing Pit’s hand on her belly. “She knows she’s surrounded by love.”
And for the first time, Brit wasn’t invisible. She was the one who mattered most. And this time, we all saw it.
