It became comically cruel over time. Every birthday? Hers. Even when it was mine. Mom would ask Julia what kind of cake I should have. And if I dared say I didn’t like chocolate frosting — too bad. Julia wanted it, so that’s what we got.

Family outings? Same story. Beach or forest hike? Ask Julia. Pizza or tacos? Let Julia decide. I could’ve been a ghost for all the input they allowed me.

By the time I was thirteen, the pattern was set in stone. Julia was perfect. Every step she took was met with applause. I, on the other hand, got scolded for breathing too loud.

But I learned how to survive in her shadow. If I was quiet, obedient, and invisible enough, they’d leave me alone. And sometimes, that peace was enough.

Then came high school — and with it, Julia’s sudden fall from social grace.