Straight to Clare.
She lowered the microphone.
I saluted her.
Not as an officer.
Not formally.
Just the smallest gesture between sisters.
Her face broke.
She threw both arms around me.
I held her.
And suddenly she was fifteen again.
Crying behind a bedroom window.
Except this time there was no glass between us.
“I thought you stopped loving me,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes.
“Never.”
“I thought you left me.”
“Never.”
Her shoulders shook.
“I waited for you.”
“So did I.”
That was all we could manage.
Behind us, Dad spoke.
“This is melodramatic.”
Clare pulled away from me.
I saw the exact moment she stopped being afraid of him.
She handed the microphone to David.
Then walked down from the stage.
Across the dance floor.
Toward our father.
Every eye followed her.
Dad straightened.
Clare stopped two feet away.
“You told me family loyalty meant never walking away.”
