Chapter 3

At the time, I'd told myself Mom was being considerate.

She was so kind to a child who wasn't even related to her. I should be more like her.

Now, looking at that old photograph, it felt as though someone had punched a hole straight through my chest.

All I felt was cold.

What else was there? What else had they hidden from me?

Nora had left her messaging app open.

At the top of her pinned conversations was a group chat I'd never seen before.

Its name was "Family."

***

There were thousands of messages, going back years. They'd talked almost every day.

I scrolled back to the year I'd come home.

September 2014. I'd been back for barely a month.

Logan had been "emotionally unstable," so Mom had taken him to Marisol Bay to relax.

He'd sent a photo.

"Thanks for coming with me, Mom. I feel so much better."

Mom's reply: "Don't be silly, sweetheart. You never have to thank me. Things have been hectic since Asher came home. Once everything settles down, I'll take you somewhere even nicer."

In the photo, Mom had one arm wrapped around Logan, and both were smiling on the beach.

That same day, I'd been lying alone in an unfamiliar bedroom, staring at a ceiling that still didn't feel like mine.

No one had asked if I wanted to go to the ocean.

In 2015, during my sophomore year of college, I'd won a prestigious national merit scholarship.

Mom and Dad said the business was too busy for them to attend the ceremony.

That same year, Logan, a high school freshman, had brought his grades up on his midterms.

Mom had written in the group chat, "Logan, we're so proud of you! I've got a surprise waiting. We're going out for a special dinner tonight."

The attached picture showed the newest smartphone.

I'd stood outside the auditorium for half an hour after my award ceremony before taking the bus home alone.

In 2016, I started interning at the family company during my junior year. I worked my way up from the bottom.

Logan mentioned that he wanted to learn photography.

Dad immediately bought him a seven-thousand-dollar camera and enrolled him in private lessons.

Mom posted a grid of his photographs.

"Look what Logan took! Isn't he talented?"

No one asked if my internship was going well. Or if I was exhausted.

Then came 2017.

The company nearly went bankrupt. We had enough cash to cover only three months of payroll. Suppliers were demanding payment at our door, and the bank withdrew our credit line rather than renew it.

Dad seemed to go gray overnight.

I spent more than a month working around the clock to secure new funding. I saved the business.

One investor told me, "We're not investing in this company. We're investing in you."

That night, Dad got drunk, gripped my hand, and said, "Asher, the best thing I've ever done in my life was finding you and bringing you home."

I believed him.

Not long after, Logan failed to get into the universities he wanted. My parents spent a fortune sending him to study overseas instead.

His tuition was paid with money from the deals I'd closed.

His luxury apartment came from my countless sleepless nights.

His social-media photos of glamorous places abroad were bought with the vacations I'd never dared to take.

Everyone went to see him off at the airport.

Everyone except me. I had a deadline at the office.

Mom texted, "It's okay, sweetheart. Focus on work. We'll all get together next time you have a break."

"Next time."

I eventually learned that "next time" was for me. "This time" always belonged to Logan.

In 2018, Logan struggled to adjust to life abroad and said he wanted to come home.

Mom and Dad flew over to stay with him for two full weeks.

I spent Labor Day weekend on my own.

Mom sent me pictures from overseas.

"Asher, look at this restaurant near Logan's campus! We'll bring you here next time."

I didn't reply.

In 2019, I spent three grueling months chasing a major contract and finally landed it.

Dad had barely finished congratulating me.