My sister walked into the house I secretly bought, picked her bedroom, and announced she was moving in that weekend. My parents agreed without asking me. Two days later, her copied key stopped working—and her smile disappeared the second I opened the door.

Because her plan had failed in front of everyone.

The moving truck left first.

Then Megan, her husband, and the children drove away.

My parents were last.

My mother stared at me through the windshield like I had broken some sacred family law.

Maybe I had.

I had broken the rule that said my life belonged to whoever needed it most.

That afternoon, Rachel helped continue reading …