Paige had been making noise her whole life.
I reached for her hand.
She stared at our fingers like she did not trust them.
“You’re my sister,” I said. “That’s not all you are. But it’s where we can start.”
She squeezed my hand once.
Not too hard.
Just enough.
Then the door behind us opened.
Ethan stepped out, holding two slices of cake.
“I’m interrupting,” he said.
“Yes,” Paige said.
“No,” I said at the same time.
He smiled and handed us each a plate.
“I figured emotional breakthroughs require frosting.”
Paige stared at him, then laughed.
A real laugh.
Not sharp. Not performative.
Real.
I realized I had missed that sound.
Not because Paige deserved instant forgiveness.
But because before we were rivals, before we were women carrying old wounds into new rooms, we had been little girls hiding under the kitchen table, stealing cookie dough while Mom pretended not to see.
Later that night, Paige gave a toast.
I did not ask her to.
In fact, I was terrified when she stood up and tapped her glass.
Every guest turned toward her with the same expression: Here we go.
Paige noticed.
For once, she did not punish the room for expecting the worst from her.
She simply breathed.
“I promise I’ll keep this short,” she said. “Because today is not about me.”
A few people chuckled nervously.
Paige looked at me.
“I spent a long time thinking my sister had everything I wanted. Grace. Approval. A good heart. A man who looks at her like she hung the moon.”
Ethan raised his glass toward me, and everyone laughed softly.
Paige continued.
“But today I realized Clara didn’t have everything. She just protected what she had better than I did. And even when I tried to ruin her day, she gave me a place in it.”
My eyes burned again.
Paige lifted her glass.
“So here’s to my sister and my new brother-in-law. May your marriage be full of truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. May your home never confuse silence with peace. And may I become the kind of sister who deserves a seat at your table.”
She looked down for a second.
“Even if it’s a small seat. Far from the cake. With supervision.”
The room laughed.
This time, with her.
Not at her.
I raised my glass.
