I didn’t expect a text from my dad to ruin my week or to find myself crashing a seven-year-old’s birthday party with my grandpa behind the wheel. But here we are.
So, I’m Britt. I’m 19 and in college now, just finishing up my freshman year.
I live about 20 minutes from my dad’s place, so I go over there whenever I get a break.
Or I used to.
Before everything turned weird.
I’ve got a little brother, Ryan. He’s seven — bright eyes, a gap-toothed grin, obsessed with outer space, and always running around with some new story about Mars or aliens. He’s my half-brother technically, but I don’t care.
To me, he’s just my brother. Period.
I’ve been there for it all — from his preschool recitals to the soccer games where he’d run the wrong way, and every single birthday since the day he was born.
He always tells me, “You’re my favorite person, Britt.”
And I swear, no matter what kind of day I’ve had, hearing that makes it better.
The thing is, ever since Dad married Melissa — who’s 30, and honestly looks more like someone I’d see in one of my classes — things haven’t felt the same.
She’s never been mean to me exactly. Just…
cold. She treated me like I was an annoying leftover from Dad’s old life.
Still, I never thought she’d actually ban me from something as important as Ryan’s birthday.
Last week, I texted my dad to ask what time the party was. Ryan had been talking about it for weeks, so I figured I’d help out, maybe bring cupcakes or something.
Instead, I got this text:
I just…
stared at my phone.
My chest felt tight, like I’d forgotten how to breathe. “Sit this one out?” Was this a joke?
I called him right away. My hands were shaking.
“Dad?
What is this text?” I asked.
He sighed, long and tired. “It’s not me, it’s her. Melissa thinks Ryan should just have family there without outsiders.
It’ll be easier if you don’t come.”
“Outsiders?” My voice cracked. “I’m his sister. What are you even talking about?”
“I know, Britt.
Look, I don’t want a fight. Just don’t make a scene, okay? Respect her wishes.”
I hung up before I started crying.
Then I cried anyway. Ugly, hiccuping sobs in my bathroom with the door locked, so my roommate wouldn’t hear.
*****
I didn’t go to the party. Obviously.
I stayed home in my pajamas, trying to distract myself.
But the gift I bought for Ryan was sitting on my desk, a big Lego rocket set he’d been eyeing for months.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
