For years, my parents let my younger sister, Mia, take everything from my older sister, Brit. She took her happiness, her confidence, and even her boyfriend. It was like Brit’s life wasn’t her own—Mia had a way of making sure she always came first. But when Brit came back for a family gathering, pregnant and full of hope, Mia tried to take one last thing. This time, we didn’t let her.
I’m Nick, the middle child, always caught between my two sisters. Brit is my older sister, the one who had to grow up fast. Mia is the youngest—the golden child, the miracle baby. Our parents adored her because she was born with an illness she wasn’t supposed to survive. But she did, and from that moment on, she could do no wrong.
Brit, on the other hand, was just… there. I noticed it when I was young but didn’t have the words to explain it. If Brit got an A+ on a test, my parents barely acknowledged it. But if Mia won “Participant of the Week” in soccer, they threw her a party.
One afternoon, Brit ran into the kitchen, holding up a drawing. “Look what I drew, Mom!” she said, beaming.
Mom glanced at it briefly, barely looking up from Mia’s soccer schedule. “That’s nice, dear.”
Brit loved art. She wanted an art set for her birthday, but our parents said it was too expensive. A week later, Mia decided she liked art. She got a full professional-grade set.
One night, Brit sat on the edge of her bed, looking at me with tear-filled eyes. “Am I invisible, Nick? Sometimes I stand in front of the mirror just to make sure I’m still here.”
I was just ten years old. I didn’t know how to answer. I only knew that my sister was hurting. I hugged her, feeling her tears soak into my shirt, but I couldn’t take the pain away.
As we grew older, Mia’s need to outshine Brit turned from childish jealousy into something darker. She stole Brit’s crush—just because she could. One night, she cut Brit’s hair while she was sleeping. The next morning, she laughed like it was some harmless prank.
Brit came downstairs, tears streaming down her face. “She cut my hair! She waited until I was asleep and—”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Dad interrupted. “Mia was just having fun.”
“It’s just hair, Brit,” Mom added dismissively. “It’ll grow back.”
Mia smirked, twirling a strand of her own untouched hair.
The final betrayal came in college. Mia took Brit’s boyfriend. And Brit? She had enough. She packed her things and walked away, cutting all ties with our family.
Brit built a new life, free from the toxicity. She met Patrick—though everyone called him Pit. He was the kind of man who would fight off an entire army for her. With him, she was finally safe. Finally loved.
Then she got pregnant. And suddenly, our parents wanted to “reconnect.”
Brit was hesitant but hopeful. “Maybe they’ve changed,” she told me.
I wanted to believe that too. But I should’ve known better. Mia saw Brit’s return as one last chance to twist the knife.
The family dinner started off normal enough. Brit was cautious, Pit was tense, and our parents were all smiles. “We’re just so happy to have you back, sweetheart,” Mom said over and over.
Mia sat there, watching, waiting. And then she pounced.
“So, Brit,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness, “how’s the pregnancy? No complications, I hope? With your history of anxiety, I imagine it must be stressful.”
Pit’s grip on his fork tightened. “She’s doing wonderfully, actually.”
Mia smiled wider. “That’s good to hear.” Then, she lifted 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 applaud your bravery for showing up.”
Brit froze. Pit’s muscles tensed. But before he could say anything, someone else did.
Our cousin Helen stood up, raising her glass. “Actually, I’d like to toast Brit.”
She turned to Brit, her voice strong. “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, when my son was sick, you stayed up all night in the hospital, telling him stories. You’ve always been the kindest and most selfless person in this family.”
More voices joined in.
“Brit helped me find a job when I had no car.”
“She took care of Grandma when no one else would.”
“Remember prom night?” our cousin Sarah said, her voice shaking. “When my date stood me up? Brit danced with me all night and made me feel like I mattered.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and stood up. “Brit, you were the best sister I could have asked for. You always put others first… even when no one put YOU first.”
One by one, the family spoke up, showering Brit with love. Meanwhile, Mia sat there, stunned. For the first time, she was the one being ignored.
She turned to our parents, waiting for them to fix it. And Mom did exactly what I expected.
“Alright, enough,” she said sharply. “Mia is here too! No matter what, she’s our miracle!”
Helen scoffed. “A miracle? More like a curse for Brit.”
Dad straightened. “Mia is the light of this family. She deserves respect too.”
Pit stood. His chair scraped loudly as he leaned forward. “Respect? For what? For stealing everything Brit ever loved? For proving she could get away with anything?”
Mia’s face burned red. “You’re all against me! You’re jealous! I’ve always been special, and I always will be!”
But no one argued. No one even looked at her.
With a strangled noise, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Silence stretched. Then, soft laughter.
Brit wiped her eyes, smiling. “I spent so many years thinking I wasn’t enough. But seeing all of you stand up for me… I finally understand. I was never the problem.”
Pit kissed her temple. “You were always more than enough.”
Brit gasped suddenly. “The baby kicked!” She grabbed Pit’s hand, pressing it to her belly. “Feel that? She knows she’s surrounded by love.”
Everyone gathered around, their hands reaching to feel the tiny kicks. Even our parents stood in the background, looking lost, perhaps realizing too late what their favoritism had cost them.
Brit wasn’t invisible anymore. And she never would be again.
