It started the same way most things did around here — loud.

Raised voices upstairs, something thudding against the wall, and then a door slammed so hard the floorboards trembled beneath my feet.

Aoife looked up from where she was sorting laundry on the couch. “Was that—?”

“AJ,” I said, already moving.

I didn’t wait. I knew the sound of a normal argument — this wasn’t it. This was the kind of silence-after-the-storm that settled like a bad omen.

When I hit the landing, AJ was pacing outside her room, hands on his head, looking like he was trying to outrun himself. His face was pale, guilty, like the words had come out before he realized what they meant.

“What the hell happened?” I asked, voice low.

“She—she got mad ‘cause I was taking the piss about her music,” he said, stumbling over it. “Said I always make fun of her, and I—I don’t know, I just got annoyed.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s it? That’s what this is about?”

“No. I mean… that’s how it started.” His voice got quieter. “Then I said something. I didn’t mean it, I swear—”

“AJ,” I snapped. “What did you say?”

He looked at the door like it might open and forgive him.

“I told her—God—I told her she’s not even really part of the family,” he whispered. “That she’s not a real Lynch, not like me. That she was only here because you and Mum felt sorry for her. That maybe if she hadn’t been such a pain in the arse, her real parents would’ve kept her.”

The hallway went dead silent.

And something in me—something that had taken years to build—snapped.

I stepped in closer, quiet and furious. “You listen to me, and you listen well, AJ. I don’t care how upset you are, I don’t care what started it—you do not ever talk to your sister like that.”

“She’s my sister, I didn’t mean it—”

“Then you shouldn’t have said it,” I hissed. “She’s ours. Just as much as you are. I don’t care what blood says. I don’t care what name’s on what paper. She is mine. She is your mother’s. And she is yours, whether you like it or not.”

He blinked rapidly, like he was trying not to cry. “I know. I know I messed up. She just—she looked at me like I broke her.”

“Because you did, AJ.”

He flinched.

I pointed down the hall. “You’re staying right here.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned toward her door — my girl’s door. The little one who used to follow AJ around with wide eyes and absolute trust, who we’d promised would never feel left behind again.