Growing up, Dylan and I were inseparable twins—polar opposites, yet bonded deeply. He was the golden boy: athletic, charming, adored. I was quieter, more cerebral. Still, we had each other’s backs through childhood, college, and beyond. Even after I moved to Portland and he stayed in Arizona, I never missed a milestone. So when he got engaged, I was thrilled and asked about the engagement party. He said it was coming soon.
Weeks passed. Nothing. My parents deflected my questions. Then came the gut punch: my aunt messaged me, confused I hadn’t attended the party. A party I hadn’t even known about. She sent a photo—Dylan and his fiancée had rented out a restaurant. Eighty guests. Friends, cousins, everyone we grew up with. Everyone but me.
I was stunned. My family told others I “couldn’t make it.” But I hadn’t been invited. When I confronted Dylan, he called it a misunderstanding. But the truth came from our sister, Emily. Dylan had asked our parents not to invite me. He felt I’d “outshine him.” My success in tech, my stable relationship, my independence—he saw it as a threat. He’d always felt overshadowed, and this was his moment.
That revelation shattered something in me. The brother I’d loved and supported had excluded me out of insecurity. I didn’t attend the wedding. I needed space—from him, from all of them. Now, I’m rebuilding. I’ve learned that even the closest bonds can fracture under jealousy. And sometimes, protecting your peace means walking away from those you thought would never hurt you.
