A week before the summer trip, I marched into the living room clutching a battered tin box and dumped it onto the coffee table in front of my family.

Inside sat five hundred and seventysix reward vouchers—three years' worth of carefully saved paper tokens. "Mom, Dad, my entrance exam scores came in," I said, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. "I ranked top three in the state." I looked at them, my heart beating fast against my ribs. "I met the goal for the Hawaii trip.

When do we leave?" I pulled out my phone, eager to show them the swimsuits I’d picked out and the detailed fiveperson itinerary I’d spent weeks mapping out.

I was so caught up in my excitement that I failed to notice the heavy silence settling over my older brother, Mason, or the sudden, downcast shift in my cousin Kelsey’s posture.

I talked until my throat felt dry, right up until my mother interrupted me with a sharp, irritated sigh.

Her eyes held no pride—only a cold, sharp annoyance. "You know Kelsey couldn't match your scores," Mom said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Must you compete with her for everything?

Do you have any idea how disgusting you look, rubbing it in her face?" I froze, the air leaving my lungs.

It was Mom who had drilled it into my head years ago: "Kelsey lost her parents.

We can never make you seem more special than her." To keep things "fair," every tiny thing I wanted over the past five years had to be earned through reward vouchers—earned by doing chores or getting perfect test scores.

Even the clothes I wore and the notebooks I used were secondhand items Kelsey didn't want anymore. Desperate, I turned to my father and Mason, searching their faces for support.

Both of them avoided my gaze.

Instead, they crowded around Kelsey, helping her unbox her massive graduation gift haul: a full Apple ecosystem set, eighteen years' worth of makeup gift boxes to make up for her lost childhood birthdays, and a row of brandname handbags.

The next morning, a notification popped up in our family group chat.

Dad announced that the trip destination had been changed to Disney World in Orlando—because that was where Kelsey wanted to go.

I looked at the message, walked over to my desk, and silently tossed the tin box into the trash bin.

My parents always said Kelsey was pitiful because she was an orphan, so they had to compensate her with everything.

But even though I had a mother, a father, and an older brother, I was worse off than if I had no family at all.

If that was how it was going to be, I wasn't going back to that empty house ever again. … A week later, I pushed open the front door holding a paper bag of warm bakery crullers I’d bought downstairs.

The living room was full of life, filled with warm, bright laughter. They were back from Florida.

Kelsey was curled up on the couch next to my father, happily scrolling through photos from their trip.

As she recounted a story, she cast a mockannoyed glance at Mason, who was busy breaking down empty cardboard gift boxes on the floor. "It’s all your fault," Kelsey pouted. "You just "had" to stop for those specialty pastries before we got on the riverboat.

Now every single group picture is missing that one perfect spot.

It’s such a shame..." Mason chuckled, his voice filled with fond indulgence. "And whose fault was it for being a little foodie?" As they teased each other, my eyes caught the screen of Kelsey’s phone.

It was a threeperson photo.

In the frame sat my father—a man who was usually rigid and severe—wearing a pair of pink Mickey ears, his nose dabbed with red paint in a goofy, comical pose.

Next to him, my mother was laughing so hard her eyes were crinkled shut. A dull ache flared behind my ribs.

No matter the time or place, they always looked like a complete family without me. I pulled the door shut behind me with a faint click.

Mom stepped out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of washed cherries.

Her eyes landed on the paper bag in my hand, her brows instantly drawing together. "Kelsey can't stand the smell of fried food right now," Mom said coolly. "Go eat that in your room." The three of them in the living room seemed to notice me only then.

Mason’s expression hardened. "Standing in the doorway like a ghost—who are you trying to scare?

Can't you say something when you come in?" Kelsey leaned over, deftly taking a cherry straight from Mom’s hand with a sweet grin. "Thanks, Aunt Nora." The warm, cozy picture stabbed at my eyes.

I turned away without a word and walked back into my bedroom. A moment later, the door pushed open. Mom stepped inside.

Acting out of a familiar blend of lingering guilt and defensive entitlement, she shoved a fresh stack of reward vouchers into my palm. "I was a bit harsh with you last time," she began, her tone rehearsed. "But Kelsey lost her parents so young.

If I let you go on a big graduation trip while leaving her behind, she’d feel heartbroken and left out. You're the sensible one, Sadie. You understand, don't you?

We'll go another time." I stared at her back as she turned and left. Ever since we were young, anything Kelsey wanted was handed to her the moment she asked.

I, on the other hand, had to do endless housework and hit perfect test scores just to get paper tickets to exchange for basic things.

And yet, whether it was a pretty dress or a chicken leg I liked, the moment Kelsey cried, it became hers. This wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.

It was almost funny. The rules were only ever meant for me. A little while later, feeling thirsty, I stepped out to grab a glass of water.

In the living room, the whole family had gathered around Kelsey to discuss her college applications.

Dad proudly declared that he would fund her education no matter how much it cost, while Mason pulled out a threehundredpage college guide binder he had stayed up all night assembling. "If you pick from this list," Mason said, pointing to a highlighted page, "they're all toptier local programs.

You can't go wrong." Kelsey’s eyes welled up with delicate tears. "Thank you all so much...

If only I were smart like Sadie and scored in the top percentile..." Mom cut her off immediately, pulling her into a protective hug. "Nonsense! What’s the use of scoring that high?

At the end of the day, girls just get married anyway.

Does a higher test score guarantee a better husband?" Kelsey nestled pitiably into Mom’s arms, shooting me a timid, hurt look. "I just thought... if I could go to the same college as Sadie, we could look out for each other." Dad slapped his knee without hesitation. "That's easy enough!" Mason chimed in from the side. "You pick first, Kelsey.

Once you choose your program, Sadie can apply there too." My hand holding the water glass trembled.

I turned to face them, my voice dropping several degrees. "On what grounds?" My scores were high enough to get me into top Ivy League institutions like Columbia—a guaranteed path to a real future.

Why should I drag myself down to a local community college just to keep her company?

Hearing my tone, Mom’s face turned icy. "If you go somewhere far away, who’s going to protect you when you get bullied?

If you go to the same school as Kelsey, our whole family can move over there to take care of both of you.

Everyone is trying to look out for you—what are you being so dramatic about?!" My knuckles turned white around the glass. Looking out for me?

Strip away the excuses, and they were simply terrified that Kelsey’s delicate ego would bruise if I went somewhere better. I unclasped my tight jaw and stopped arguing.

Back in my room, I picked up my phone and dialed my high school advisor's number. "Mrs.

Albright," I said softly, "I’ll take the fullride offer to Columbia." The next morning, during breakfast, the atmosphere was unusually calm.

Taking my silence from the night before as consent to follow Kelsey to community college, my mother did something rare: she fried an egg and placed it over my plain noodle bowl—without asking for a single voucher.

Mason and Dad were noticeably warmer, talking about taking me out to a highend restaurant to celebrate my college admission.

Sitting nearby, Kelsey munched on her poached beef, raising a hand with a bright smile. "Let me pick the dishes for Sadie!

Let’s go to that French place on Main Street." When we arrived, every single dish ordered under the guise of "celebrating me" was a heavily spiced, rich plate that Kelsey loved—and that I couldn't stomach.

Even more absurdly, the family had spent hours waiting for Kelsey to finish her makeup and outfit before heading out.

Before leaving the house, they had insisted on going together as a family. Yet, by the time I stepped out of the bathroom, the living room was empty. They had already driven off.

Not a single text came through to tell me where the restaurant was.

That night, I sat alone in my pitchblack, silent bedroom, chewing on the cold leftovers from earlier, scrolling through Kelsey’s latest social media update.

In the photo, she was holding a giant lobster plate, leaning her cheek against Mom’s. Her eyes were curved into happy crescents. "Family dinner!

Aunt Nora feels more like a mom than my real mom ever did~" Beside her, Mason and Dad were casually dropping freshly shelled shrimp onto her plate, radiant with familial warmth.

I let out a quiet breath, strangely relieved that I hadn't been there to ruin their mood. I remembered when Kelsey first moved in with us—it happened to fall on my birthday.

I had begged my mother to take us to a hot pot restaurant to celebrate. On the way there, Mom had sat in the back seat, smiling as she played string games with me.

But when the cake was brought out at the restaurant and Kelsey saw my name written across the frosted surface, she burst into loud sobs, clutching my mother’s arm and crying about how much she missed her own parents.

Without a second thought, Mom picked up a butter knife and scraped my name off the cake.

Then she made Dad and Mason sing Happy Birthday to Kelsey instead. "From now on," Mom had declared back then, "even when it’s not your birthday, you get to eat cake too." I was supposed to be the main character that day, but I ended up a silent bystander.

Afterward, Mom handed me my very first set of reward vouchers. Five of them. Just like the stack lying in front of me now.

Mom snatched the vouchers off the nightstand and threw them straight at my face, staring at me with sudden anger. "Sadie, what kind of game are you playing now?

Kelsey specifically picked that restaurant for you—why didn't you show up?" The sharp edge of the paper scraped against my cheek, leaving a faint, stinging sensation.

But inside, the turbulence in my heart was slowly settling into a quiet, dead calm. "Was it really my choice not to go?" I asked softly.

Mom paused, realization dawning on her that they had simply left me behind. But almost instantly, her embarrassment twisted into disgust.

She slammed the takeout container onto my desk, her face hardening. "Well, who’s to blame for that? You were taking forever. We'll make it up to you next time." I didn't answer.

At my father's call from the hallway, Mom turned and headed straight into Kelsey's room. They had just bought a brandnew, highend gaming console worth thousands of dollars.

A family of four, diving into interactive video games, their laughter echoing through the thin walls. I clutched my abdomen as a sharp, searing pain tore through my lower stomach.

Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. Shaking, I pulled out my phone and used an online medical service, describing my symptoms through gritted teeth.

The doctor’s response came quickly: "Suspected acute appendicitis.

Go to the emergency room immediately." Pale and bent double, I limped over to Kelsey’s bedroom and knocked on the door, hoping Dad could drive me to the hospital on his scooter.

A few minutes later, Mason opened the door, his face dark with annoyance. Hearing my request, he let out a harsh laugh. "Your stomach hurts?

You're just jealous that everyone's hanging out with Kelsey.

Stop faking an illness just to draw attention." "I'm not..." I shook my head, too weak to fight back, my fingers digging harder into my side.

Mom, worried that the commotion would distract Kelsey from her game, reached under the TV stand, pulled out a leftover packet of flu powder, and tossed it at me. "You probably chilled your stomach eating cold leftovers.

It won't kill you. Just tough it out." I chewed the dry powder and swallowed it down, but the pain only multiplied.

Left with no choice, I crawled back to my room, pulled out the piggy bank hidden under my bed, and smashed it on the floor.

Scooping up roughly seventy dollars in crumpled bills and coins, I stumbled out the door to take a taxi to the hospital alone. The test results were terrible.

The doctor held my chart, his brow deeply furrowed. "You have severe tissue inflammation caused by an untreated infection.

We need a family member’s signature for an immediate appendectomy.

If we wait any longer and the appendix ruptures, fluid will flood your abdominal cavity, and it’s going to get dangerous." Cold dread washed over me, climbing up my spine.

I dialed my mother’s phone number, my fingers trembling so badly I missed the keys multiple times. It went unanswered.

It wasn't until my fiftyeighth call home that Mason finally picked up. Before I could open my mouth, a barrage of sharp scolding hit my ear. "Are you out of your mind?!

If she's not picking up, it means she doesn't want to talk to you! Your constant ringing has distracted Kelsey three times already!

Whatever it is, talk about it later—stop calling!" When I tried dialing again, the line went straight to a busy tone. He had blocked my number.

In desperation, I called my high school advisor, Mrs. Albright. The moment she heard my shaky, gasping breath, she caught an Uber and rushed to the hospital.

She signed the authorization forms, paid the advance deposit out of her own pocket, and handled everything with unwavering care.

Right before I was wheeled into the operating room, sensing my panic, Mrs. Albright gently patted my hair. "Don't be afraid, sweetie.

Just close your eyes and sleep." When the anesthesia wore off and I opened my eyes, there were two extra people in the hospital room. Mason stood by the bed.

There was no relief or concern in his eyes—only accusation. "Out of all the times to get surgery, you had to pick the exact day Kelsey booked her graduation photo shoot," he sneered. "I really can't tell if you did this on purpose or if you're just that spiteful." Mom shot him a warning look, gesturing for him to pipe down. "Your sister is sick, why are you shouting?

Your father is with Kelsey at the studio.

Our job is to stay here and take care of Sadie." Her words sounded nice, but when my throat felt parched and I asked for a sip of water, Mason was busy picking photo filters on his phone for Kelsey, and Mom was on a video call helping Kelsey choose photoshoot dresses.

Neither of them had their eyes on me for a single second. In the end, it was a delivery driver bringing broth to the next bed who noticed me.

He poured a small cup of warm water and brought it to my lips so I could wet my dry throat. "Little girl," the driver murmured, looking at the two people by the window, "are those your real family?

Why are they both glued to their phones instead of looking after a patient?" Mom and Mason’s faces turned instantly uncomfortable.

Once the delivery driver left, Mason glared at me. "Always playing the tragic victim.

It’s just a cup of water—if people didn't know better, they’d think we were abusing you." Mom didn't correct him, clearly agreeing with his sentiment.

Still, she opened a container of takeout broth and brought a spoon to my mouth. It was seafood broth—something I was severely allergic to.

When I turned my head away, she seemed to find the perfect excuse to vent her frustration. Her face darkened. "What kind of petty mood are you throwing now?

You dragged out this whole hospital thing just to ruin our day with Kelsey, didn't you?

Drink it or don't!" With that, the two of them snapped the lid shut and walked out of the room in anger.

The older woman in the neighboring bed, who had watched the entire scene unfold, looked at me in disbelief. "Are those really your mother and brother?" "Yeah," I whispered, forcing a small smile as I fought back the hot prickle of tears in my eyes. "Though...

I kind of wish they weren't." Over the next few days, my recovery in the hospital was marked by their brief, fleeting appearances.

When I was finally able to get out of bed and walk around, I scrolled through social media and saw Kelsey’s posts.

During the time I was stuck in the hospital, the whole family had been taking her to check out viral food spots, buy designer clothes, and attend concerts.

Of course, Mom sent me a photo too—a picture of my desk at home, where a growing stack of reward vouchers was piled up. "When you get better, we'll all go together next time." Looking at the photo, my heart remained entirely flat.

I walked to the nurse's station and processed my own discharge papers. Coincidentally, as I stepped out of the hospital doors, Mrs. Albright called me.

Beyond confirming that my fullride paperwork to Columbia was fully finalized, she mentioned a bank transfer. "Given your family's situation, the school raised a emergency fund of four thousand dollars for your tuition and initial living expenses, so you can focus entirely on your degree." Staring at the figure, a wave of warmth surged through my chest, making my eyes sting.

But a second later, I went completely rigid. Mrs. Albright’s cheerful voice came through the receiver: "The funds were wired over this morning.

Did you get the bank notification?" I checked my empty text inbox, and sudden realization hit me like cold water—I hadn't set up my own independent bank account yet.

When submitting my school paperwork earlier, I had used my mother's secondary account. A bad feeling seized me. I rushed onto a city bus and headed straight home.

When I pushed open the front door, the living room was packed with visiting relatives, all gathered around Mom and Kelsey. "Back when Kelsey's parents passed away," my aunt was saying loudly, "if it weren't for Nora taking her in, she’d never have had such a good life." "Exactly!

Nora really treats her like her own flesh and blood." "Oh, look, Sadie’s back!" I ignored my aunt completely, walking straight up to my mother and extending my hand. "Where is the money?" The lively atmosphere plunged into a dead silence.

Mom’s face went cold. "What money? Does this family not pay for your schooling? You need charity donations now?

Or do you think you're hot stuff, thinking four thousand dollars is enough to make you completely independent?" Regardless of what she thought, that money belonged to me.

I steeled my gaze, repeating every word clearly: "The four thousand dollars.

Give it to me." Seeing the tension, Kelsey stepped forward with a gentle, understanding air, tugging softly at my sleeve.

She pointed toward an unopened, highend computer graphics card sitting on the living room table. "I'm so sorry, Sadie...

Aunt Nora was a little short on cash when she bought my new setup, so she used that money to cover the final balance.

If you really need it right now, I can take it back to the store and return it." Mom pulled Kelsey back instantly. "Return what?!

It was bought for you, so you keep it!" Mom turned her harsh glare onto me. "She’s going to be staying at home anyway—what does she need that much cash on her for?

If anything happens, the family is right here to handle it." She reached into her pocket, pulled out another handful of reward vouchers, and shoved them into my hands.

She said she was just "borrowing" the money from me and would make it up to me later.

This time, I looked down at the worthless slips of paper in my palm, and the final trace of warmth in my heart died out.

In front of the entire family, I tossed the vouchers directly into the trash bin, turned on my heel, and walked out the door.

If Kelsey was always going to be their first choice, then I would become my own.

That evening, a group of relatives stayed over, talking and laughing around Kelsey in the living room.

My mother walked into my bedroom alone, her eyes immediately catching the metal tin sitting inside the trash can. She picked it up and opened the lid.

Seeing the box packed to the brim with years of saved reward vouchers, her heart sank slightly.

She looked around the sparse, bare room—at the tiny desk, the thin blanket, the complete lack of anything new—and for the very first time, a wave of discomfort hit her as she realized how thoroughly I had been set aside all these years.

Standing there in the quiet, she pulled out her phone and sent me several voice notes. "Sadie, it’s dark out. It’s not safe for a girl to be out alone.

Whatever it is, come home and we can talk." "About the four thousand dollars... it was Mom's mistake.

I transferred it back to your account." "Kelsey’s already been to Disney World, so this time we’ll go to Hawaii.

I'll have your brother book the flights right now..." I sat on a bench outside, watching the messages pop up one by one on my screen.

My heart didn't flutter; my eyes didn't tear up. Some things, if you didn't get them when they mattered, lose all meaning later on.