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At first, I assumed he was on a call. Then I heard it:
“Oh, please, you just like forbidden things, big brother.”
I knew that voice.
It belonged to Mia.
She was my 26-year-old half-sister. All bronzed skin, pouty selfies, and vision boards taped above her mirror. She floated from one job to another—yoga instructor, dog groomer, tarot reader—whatever made her feel “aligned with her higher self.”
She called herself a life coach but couldn’t pay her own car insurance, and she hadn’t held a job longer than a TikTok clip.
Mia had always been…
too much. Too giggly around my husband, and too affectionate with her hugs. But I told myself it was harmless.
She was young, and she didn’t mean anything by it.
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