It was late afternoon when you wandered through the halls of your massive house, the kind of quiet that only happened when everyone else was off doing something. You expected to find Neela Jolene in her room filming a self-tape or maybe on a call with her agent — but instead, you saw her through the tall glass doors leading out to the patio.

She was standing there barefoot, right at the edge of the safety glass that lined the patio, her arms folded and her hair pulled into a loose bun. The wind moved through the trees, and the pool below shimmered like liquid sapphire under the California sun. She hadn’t noticed you yet.

You slowly stepped out onto the stone tiles. “Neela?” you said gently.

She didn’t turn. “Hey,” she said, voice quiet but steady. “I was just thinking.”

You stood beside her, following her gaze past the palm trees and down the hill where the city stretched out below you like a dream. The glass between you and the edge made everything feel even more unreal — the height, the silence, the calm.

“About what?” you asked.

She sighed a little. “Life. Work. How weird all of this is. Like… we live in a mansion. I get paid to pretend to be other people. But sometimes I feel like I don’t even know who I am.”

You didn’t know what to say at first. She was your big sister — the strong one, the confident one, the one on magazine covers. Seeing her like this, vulnerable, felt strange… but kind of important.

“I know who you are,” you said. “You’re still the same Neela who used to bribe me with candy to do her homework.”

She laughed softly. “That was a good deal. You always fell for it.”

“Still would.”

She smiled at you and finally looked away from the view, her eyes soft. “Thanks. For being here.”