Here’s a rewritten version that keeps the same meaning: “You’re nothing like your sister,” my mom remarked at dinner.

But that moment—the shock, the suffocating silence, the raw fear in his eyes—was nothing compared to what came after. Because the real secret, the one that had been eating me alive from the inside out, hadn’t even been revealed yet.

My name is Nora Ellis, and for most of my life, I have been a ghost in my own family. I am the background noise, the static between the clear, broadcast stations of my parents’ adoration for my sister. People often assume I’m shy, retiring, perhaps a bit dull. But that isn’t quite true. I just learned early, with the brutal efficiency of a survivalist, that in my parents’ house, silence keeps the peace. And peace, no matter how fragile, how glass-thin, was the only thing I ever tried to protect.

On paper, my life looks steady. Predictable. I am a financial manager at a logistics company near the Portland Harbor. My world is built on the bedrock of logic: numbers, deadlines, supply chains, and systems that make sense. There is a profound calmness in spreadsheets that real life has never offered me. When I balance a ledger, the columns align. The math works. There is no ambiguity, no favoritism.

My days follow a soothing, mechanical rhythm: the echo of forklifts grinding at the docks, the fluorescent hum of the office, the soft, tactile click of my keyboard as I bring order to chaos. I go home to a small apartment with warm lamps, a beige rug, and a view of the Willamette River. Some nights I cook pasta, tie my hair up in a messy bun, and take comfort in small, orderly things. A perfectly brewed cup of tea. A balanced checkbook. A quiet room.

But the steadiness ends every Friday.

That is when I drive to my parents’ two-story house in the suburbs. It is a place wrapped in manicured hedges and the illusion of the American Dream. It is a stage set, pristine and hollow. Inside, the perfection cracks fast. The moment I step through the door, the confident, thirty-year-old financial manager dissolves. I am sixteen again. I am the second daughter. I am the supporting role in Vivian’s highlight reel.Continue reading…