I sat beside her, careful with my dress.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Inside, music played. Laughter rose and fell. Someone announced that dessert was being served.
Outside, the air smelled like summer grass and rain that had not arrived yet.
Paige rubbed her thumb over the edge of Mom’s scarf.
“I really did hate you sometimes,” she said.
“I know.”
She flinched at my honesty.
I looked at the dark garden ahead of us.
“I hated you too.”
She turned to me.
I had never said it before.
I had softened it for years. I had called it frustration, disappointment, exhaustion. But hatred had been there, sitting in the corner of my heart like an unwanted guest.
Paige’s eyes filled again.
“I deserved that.”
“Sometimes,” I said. “But I don’t want to live there anymore.”
She nodded slowly.
“I don’t know how to be different.”
“Me neither.”
That surprised her.
I smiled faintly. “You think I know how to forgive you because I did one dramatic thing in a church? Paige, I’m still angry.”
Her lips parted.
“I’m angry you made me dread my own wedding. I’m angry you left me alone with Mom when she was sick. I’m angry you turned every milestone into a competition. I’m angry that even today, some part of me was waiting for you to hurt me.”
She cried quietly.
I let her.
Then I said, “But I don’t want anger to be the only thing left between us.”
Paige wiped her face. “What do you want?”
I thought about it.
Inside, Ethan was probably looking for me. My guests were probably whispering. The cake was probably melting slightly under the warm lights.
But that question deserved time.
“I want honesty,” I said. “Not instant closeness. Not fake sister pictures for Facebook. Not pretending today fixed everything. I want honesty. Therapy, maybe. Boundaries, definitely. And no more stealing each other’s light.”
Paige laughed through tears.
“I don’t think I have any light.”
“That’s the first lie we need to stop telling.”
She looked down.
“I don’t know who I am if I’m not competing with you.”
The sadness in her voice made my chest ache.
Because I believed her.
Some people become cruel because cruelty works. Others become cruel because they are terrified that without noise, nobody will notice they exist.
