The morning of the party, I stood behind Melissa in our mother’s bathroom, carefully curling sections of her blonde hair. I smiled into the mirror, catching her eye.
“If only one of us got to be pregnant,” Melissa sighed, admiring her own reflection, “I’m glad it’s me.”
I paused, holding the hot iron. “Why is that?”
“Well, even Mom said it’s better this way.” She pressed her lips together, evening out the pink gloss. “Since I’m the prettier sister. The photos will actually be worth framing. You know what I mean?”
I didn’t blink. I just uncapped her lipstick and leaned in to apply it. “You deserve this,” I said, my voice perfectly steady.
“No interruptions this time,” she murmured. “This is my day.”
“Absolutely.”
The backyard looked like a stylized magazine spread. Cascading arches of pink balloons framed the patio, and a three-tier cake sat on a linen-draped table. Everyone already knew she was having a girl from her internet posts, but Melissa insisted on a full theatrical reveal anyway.
I wore a loose linen dress, but the slight curve of my stomach was there if you knew to look for it. Nobody was looking at me, though.
Until I caught Melissa pulling our mother aside near the drink station.
“God, look at Sarah,” Melissa whispered loudly enough for me to hear. “She’s gotten huge. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was the one having a baby.”
Mom chuckled, adjusting her pearl necklace. “Well, you’ve always been the thin one, honey. Good thing, too. For the photos.”
I gripped my plastic cup until the sides buckled.
When they finally finished giggling, the countdown started.
“Three, two, one!”
A massive pop echoed off the fence. Pink confetti rained down over the manicured lawn. Melissa screamed in delight. The crowd erupted into applause, camera flashes catching the falling paper.
I took a breath, ready to step forward and deliver my rehearsed announcement. I wanted to see the exact moment her smile shattered.
Instead, a wave of violent nausea hit the back of my throat.
I didn’t have time to announce anything. I shoved my way past our aunt, clamped a hand over my mouth, and sprinted for the downstairs bathroom.
When I finally emerged, wiping my mouth with a paper towel, the backyard had gone completely still. Dozens of faces turned toward me. The concern in the air was thick and suffocating.
“Sarah?” Daniel stepped forward, his brow creased. “Are you alright?”
The adrenaline and the sickness scrambled my brain. The rehearsed speech vanished. The words simply fell out of my mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered, my face flushed. “It’s just… the twins. They’ve been making me so sick.”
Silence. Absolute, heavy silence settled over the lawn. The wind rustled the pink balloons.
“I’m six weeks along,” I added, looking at the ground. “And I can’t keep anything down.”
Then, the explosion.
“Twins?!” Aunt Martha shrieked, dropping her paper plate. “Oh my God, Sarah!”
The crowd shifted. It wasn’t a slow migration; it was a sudden tide. The guests turned their backs on the confetti, pulling away from Melissa and surging toward me. Hands reached out to touch my arm. Questions flew from every direction. Do twins run in the family? When did you find out? Are they identical?
Over the shoulders of my relatives, I saw Melissa. Her face flushed pink, then a deep, mottled red. Her chest began to heave.
I braced myself. Here it comes, I thought. The signature performance.
“I—” Melissa gasped, clutching the neckline of her dress. “I can’t breathe. Someone! Help!”
But nobody moved toward her. Even Ryan, her husband, was standing near Daniel, asking about double strollers.
“Hello?!” Melissa screamed, her voice cracking in genuine panic. “I am having a panic attack! This is my party!”
Mom glanced over her shoulder, waving a dismissive hand. “Melissa, honey, not now. Sarah is having twins. Her first time.”
That was the exact moment something inside my sister snapped.
She lunged toward the dessert table. Her hand closed around the handle of the silver cake knife. She spun around, the blade catching the afternoon sun.
My breath caught in my throat. I froze, my hand instinctively dropping to cover my stomach.
“This is my day!” she shrieked. Black mascara ran down her cheeks in thick, dark streams. “Mine! I have been trying for three years!”
Ryan pushed through the crowd. He grabbed her wrist just as she raised the knife, twisting his weight against her arm. The silver blade clattered onto the paving stones, kicking under the table.
Stripped of the weapon, Melissa’s legs gave out. She collapsed onto the patio, wailing with a raw, guttural sound that echoed three houses down. She pounded her fists against the concrete, screaming that I ruined everything. That I always ruined everything.
Mom rushed forward, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around Melissa, rocking her back and forth. Neither of them looked at me.
I stood paralyzed, feeling the heat of the afternoon sun. Around the edges of the patio, I noticed at least a dozen guests standing perfectly still, holding up their phones, recording the entire breakdown in absolute silence.