At home, my life was a mix of school, part-time work, and family obligations.
Mornings were rushed with everyone trying to get ready before heading off.
Evenings were spent studying or helping my mom with chores, all under the watchful eyes of my stepdad.
His presence filled the house with a quiet authority.
Despite the routine, there was an unspoken tension I tried to ignore.
Especially around family gatherings where my stepsister seemed to have the upper hand.
Her subtle snubs and preferred parking spots at school, the way teachers apparently favored her over me, all added up in small, nagging ways.
The power imbalance was clear.
My stepsister had the social capital, the ease of moving through our shared spaces with a kind of entitlement.
My stepdad rarely intervened when she crossed lines, his silence a quiet endorsement.
