“Guess You Don’t Count,” My Sister Smirked—After Seating Me In The Hallway By The Trash Cans At Her Wedding. I Didn’t Argue. I Didn’t Cry. I Just Walked Out… And Slipped One Small Silver Gift Onto Her Present Pile. Five Minutes Later, The Music Died, The Chandeliers Went Still, And A Scream Split The Ballroom. Guests Froze. Phones Came Out. The Groom Turned White. And As My Sister Lunged For The Evidence, Someone Whispered My Name—Right Before I Got A Call From…”
“Guess you don’t count.” Laya said it the way you’d tell someone the weather had turned—matter-of-fact, almost bored. Like she’d…