When I got the message telling me to sit out Ryan’s birthday party, I was stunned. Melissa, my stepmom, said I took attention away from her son. I’m his sister. How could I be “not allowed”?
That night, I cried alone. The next day, Grandpa showed up, furious. “You’re Ryan’s sister. Nobody erases that.” With his support, I went to the party carrying Ryan’s favorite gift—the Lego rocket he’d dreamed of.
Melissa’s smile dropped the moment she saw me. She tried to push me out, but Grandpa stood firm. “You had no right to uninvite her,” he said.
Ryan ran to me, hugging tightly. “I thought you weren’t coming!” he said. “You’re my sissy.”
Melissa stormed off, and my dad apologized quietly. “I thought I was keeping peace, but I see now I wasn’t being fair.”
That night, as Ryan clutched his rocket, I realized family isn’t about who lets you in—it’s who runs to you, arms wide open. And Ryan’s wish was clear: “I wish you’d always be here.” I promised I would be.
