The door flew open. Tyler stood there, tall and smug, already carrying himself like the world owed him something.

“Oh. You came.”
“Yes. Your grandmother invited me.”
“Just throw your stuff somewhere.”

I stepped inside. The house was crowded, music thumping, voices overlapping, glasses clinking. The air smelled like sugar, fried food, and expensive cologne. For a moment, no one noticed me. It always happened like that—as if I needed time to come into focus. My mom sat at the head of the table, smiling at Tyler like he had hung the stars, proudly telling someone about how gifted he was. I cleared my throat and stepped forward.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh. Stephanie. You made it.”
“Of course. It’s your birthday.”
“Put the gift somewhere. We’re doing presents.”