The Pause on the Line
Language: en
When Mom nearly died giving birth to my little sister, I struck a deal with Death himself. I staked my soul to keep them both alive, but if by my eighteenth birthday Mom no longer loved me best, my soul would vanish. At the start, I was certain. “That’s far too easy,” I told the shadow. “Mom always calls me her favorite.” But she was lying. My sister was frail, a fragile porcelain doll doted on by everyone from her first breath. Just like that, I ceased to be the favored child. On my twelfth birthday, I wished aloud to be Mom’s favorite again. My sister’s weak heart panicked at the words.…