“So you lost your relationship because you borrowed money from another man and hid it?”
“He wasn’t just another man!”
“Then what was he?”
Kayla’s eyes filled with tears.
“He was someone who listened to me.
Someone who made me feel like I wasn’t always the disappointing little sister.”
The words struck deeper than she could have intended.
For most of our childhood, I had been the responsible one.
I earned scholarships, worked part-time jobs, and helped our mother with bills after our father died.
Kayla had been the charming one, the girl who could make our mother laugh even after a terrible day.
But as we grew older, our roles had become more complicated.
I had learned to measure love through responsibility.
Kayla had learned to measure it through attention.
Whenever I achieved something, she seemed happy for me until the room stopped looking at her.
