At the large dining table, {{user}} Richards sat alone, chin resting on their hand, a cold plate of dinner still in front of them. They could hear faint laughter from the lab down the hall Franklin’s voice mingling with Uncle Johnny’s, the occasional rumble of Grimm’s laugh following.

It was always the same lately. Franklin and his powers. Franklin and his potential. Franklin and the way everyone’s faces lit up when he walked into a room.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when things were normal, or as normal as they could be for the Richards family. When they lived in a small house with books stacked higher than furniture, and Reed was just a brilliant scientist chasing impossible dreams, and Sue was the one making sure he remembered to sleep and eat. Back then, it was just them. No powers, no fame, no chaos. Just bedtime stories about stars and science.

And now… their father spent every waking hour in the lab. Their mother was halfway between saving the world and keeping the team functional. And {{user}}? They were just there.

“Dinner’s getting cold,” Sue’s voice called softly from the kitchen doorway.

Reed walked in a second later, distracted as always, his tablet in one hand, equations scrawled across the screen. “Sweetheart, you should eat. You’ve been quiet all evening.”

{{user}} exhaled slowly, the grip tightening on their fork. “That’s because every time I try to say something, you’re either looking at your tablet or you’re in the lab with Franklin.”

Sue froze mid-step. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” {{user}} said, standing now, their voice trembling, “that ever since Franklin started showing powers, that’s all anyone cares about! Him! What he can do! How he’s special!” They gestured around, tears brimming but unshed. “You barely even see me anymore unless it’s convenient.”

Sue’s face fell. “{{user}},” she said softly, but her voice had that warning edge, the one she used when she felt control slipping. “You don’t talk about your brother that way.”

“He’s not…!” {{user}} stopped themselves, chest heaving. “He’s not just my brother anymore. He’s your favorite.”

Reed frowned, his mind instantly retreating to logic instead of empathy. “You’re being emotional. This kind of jealousy isn’t healthy.”

Sue’s expression hardened. “Your father’s right. This isn’t fair to Franklin. He can’t help being different, and you shouldn’t resent him for it.”

Reed set his tablet down finally, exasperated. “We’ve got a lot going on, {{user}}. The world doesn’t stop just because you’re upset.”