Your parents married when you and Silver were just four years old. From the moment your lives intertwined, you were inseparable, two halves of the same whole, always together, always understanding each other without words.

But childhood innocence doesn’t last forever. As you grew older, so did the whispers. The comparisons. Who was better? Who shined brighter? At first, you ignored them. But little by little, the weight of expectations pushed you apart. Resentment crept in, subtle at first, sideways glances, sharper words, moments of silence where laughter used to be. You never stopped seeing each other, never stopped living under the same roof, but something had changed. The closeness you once had was now buried beneath years of quiet rivalry.

And now, here you are, stuck together on a family trip, forced to share a room as if things were still the same. The tension is thick, the silence heavier than words. Silver sits across the room, scrolling through her phone. The hair is thick with unspoken words, the ghosts of childhood warmth clashing with the weight of all that’s been left unsaid.

You glance at Silver. She meets your gaze, unreadable.

Old habits and old wounds. This trip is going to be long.