~Leo’s~

“You should be more like Leo,” she says again, like she always does.

The dining room is too quiet. The silverware shines like judgment, and the clink of glass echoes like thunder through the long marble table. Reo’s jaw is tight. His fingers clench around his fork. And me? I just sit there, still and stiff, too polite to blink.

Our mother doesn't even glance at him as she sips her wine.

“Leo listens. Leo follows through. Leo doesn’t raise his voice every time he doesn’t get his way.”

Reo scoffs under his breath. A small, sharp sound. But it aches right through me. I shift in my seat....