“Your sister has exceptional people skills,” he said. “Briarwood is the right place for her. She knows how to build connections. That environment will bring out her full potential.”
Amber stood near the fireplace, still holding her letter, one shoulder angled toward the mirror. We had the same hazel eyes, the same honey-blond hair, the same birthday down to the minute. But life had always placed us beneath different lights. Amber’s confidence entered every room before she did. Mine waited by the door and asked permission.
“And me?” I asked.
My mother lowered her eyes.
My father paused just long enough to make me hope.
“You’re smart,” he said. “Nobody denies that. But you don’t stand out the same way. We don’t see the same long-term return.”
Return.
That word cut deepest because it wasn’t careless. It was honest.
Amber was an investment.
I was an expense.
