I’m 28, and I have a twin brother. Growing up, we were inseparable. He was the extrovert who loved sports, while I was the shy nerd, but we balanced each other perfectly. I always thought our bond was unshakable—until the last couple of years proved me wrong.
When we went to college, life pulled us in different directions. He stayed in Arizona, while I moved to Portland. Even though I built my life here, I always made the effort to fly home for birthdays, holidays, and family gatherings. That’s why I was so excited when he announced on Instagram that he was engaged. I congratulated him right away, and when he mentioned having an engagement party, I told him I’d book a flight as soon as I knew the date.
Except—I never got a date. Every time I asked, either he ignored me or my family brushed it off with vague excuses. Eventually, my mom said, “It’s not really an engagement party, just a small dinner with family. No need to fly down.”
But then I found out the truth: it wasn’t a small dinner at all. My brother had rented out an entire restaurant. Eighty people were there—cousins, friends, extended family. Everyone was told I “couldn’t make it.” When my aunt texted me, disappointed I hadn’t come, I explained that I was never invited. Word spread, and my parents and brother backpedaled with weak excuses like “miscommunication” and “it’s just a party, no big deal.”
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