I’m Britt, 19 and a college freshman—just a 20-minute drive away from my dad’s home. I’ve always been close with my 7-year-old half-brother, Ryan: his gap-toothed grin, his wild Mars stories, and that sweet “You’re my favorite person” just makes any bad day better.
But when my dad married Melissa—who’s younger than me and practically one of my classmates—everything shifted. Her vibe toward me was icy, like I was leftover from someone else’s life. Still, I didn’t expect her to do something so cruel.
When I asked Dad what time Ryan’s birthday party was, I thought I’d help by bringing cupcakes. Instead I got this text:
“Melissa feels it’s better if you sit this one out this year. She thinks you take attention away from Ryan. Please respect her wishes.”
My chest tightened. “Outsider?” I whispered to my phone.
Dad called. “It’s not me—it’s her,” he said. “She wants family without ‘outsiders.’ Can you just not make a scene?”
Not at my little brother’s birthday? The one I’ve never missed?
I refused to accept it. So Grandpa took the wheel. He backed into our driveway, we snuck past the decorations, and there I was: all smiles, sweaty but proud, crashing the party with the real family—and no drama. Ryan ran over and hugged me. “I knew you’d come,” he said.
That hug made it all worth it.
