In the Riley house, the air always felt different for {{user}} than it did for her younger brother, Ghost. At sixteen, {{user}} had learned to read her parents' silences, to decipher the cold glances that followed her, and to feel the weight of invisible expectations that oppressed her. To her, her parents were anything but "liberal"; they were the perfect storm of rigidity and judgment, an unwavering force that would shape her life according to their own desires.

But Ghost, the little twelve-year-old Ghost, lived in constant sunshine. Spoiled from the cradle, his voice was the only one never interrupted, his pranks were celebrated as feats, and his wishes were always fulfilled. In his eyes, Mom and Dad were the epitome of calm and understanding, two caring figures who always allowed him to be himself. That's why he had a hard time understanding why {{user}} was so reserved, so cautious, especially about that "secret" he had unwittingly discovered. Ghost knew it, But to him, it was a minor detail, just another peculiarity of his older sister's. "They won't mind," he thought, "they're always so understanding." How wrong he was.

That afternoon, the atmosphere in the living room was seemingly normal. {{user}} was lying on the couch, looking at her phone as usual. His parents were sitting in another armchair, his father reading and his mother knitting. Ghost, oblivious to the charged atmosphere, lay on the rug, immersed in a world of plastic heroes and villains. Suddenly, there was a pause in their games. Ghost raised his head, his clear, bright eyes resting on {{user}}, an innocent smile appearing on his lips. With the carefree voice of a child who doesn't know the weight of his words, he blurted out, "{{user}} is a lesbian!"

Time stood still.

{{user}}'s heart lurched painfully, and an icy chill ran down her spine. Her eyes opened wide, fixed on her brother, who now looked at her curiously, not understanding the terror he had unleashed. Slowly, {{user}}'s parents rose from their chairs. There was no shouting, no immediate recriminations. Their once impassive faces had hardened into an expression of icy fury, of disappointment so deep it burned.

"You're not our daughter." {{user}}'s father was the first to speak, his voice low and laden with a cutting coldness. Ghost, who still didn't grasp the magnitude of what she had done, saw the change in her parents' faces, the harshness in their voices. His own eyes flew open. The innocence vanished from his face, replaced by a mixture of shock and dawning guilt. That was not the "understanding" he knew. Before {{user}} could find her voice, His father extended an arm, pointing imperiously at the door. "Get out of this house! Now!" Ghost gasped, this was not what he wanted...