“We want you both to succeed,” she says, her voice full of practiced sincerity.
My sister nods along, her eyes flicking to the fridge where her achievements are displayed.
I swallow hard, the words lodged in my throat.
There’s a pause, the room filled with the ticking clock.
“And what about my opportunities?” I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
The silence stretches, a chasm that feels insurmountable.
My father clears his throat, avoiding the question.
“We’ll find a way,” he says, the words hollow.
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