I laughed to myself. Lucius didn't get one because he was still a baby and couldn't eat cake.

And for a cake that was supposedly mine, it was awfully convenient that the design was a race car, Lucius's favorite thing in the world.

The candles were lit. I leaned forward to blow them out, and Mom's hand shot across the table to stop me.

"Your brother can't eat the cake, so at least let him blow out the candles. You'll get the whole thing afterward."

I sat back and didn't move. I watched her coax a one-year-old into blowing out candles.

The baby had no idea how blowing worked. He sputtered and drooled all over the frosting, spraying spit across the icing with every attempt, and then, thrilled with himself, slammed both tiny fists into the cake and smashed it to pieces.

Mom's eyes darted to me. When she saw I wasn't upset, she turned back to Lucius with a beaming smile.

"My boy is so strong! What a good baby!"

I watched in silence. Oh, he's strong all right. The kid could barely walk in a straight line, but in a few years he'd manage to shoot a toy gun with enough force to blind both eyes of someone's show dog worth over a hundred thousand dollars.

A real little powerhouse.

After coming home, I threw myself into studying. Mom would toss out jabs whenever she passed my room. "What's the point of all that studying? Why don't you come help me wash the dishes, or play with your brother for a while?"

I ignored her completely. I kept my head in my books and signed up for every academic competition I could find.

Every winter and summer break, I went straight to the countryside to be with Grandpa and Grandma.

Over time, Mom noticed the distance between us and liked me even less for it. She stopped trying altogether and began pretending I wasn't there.

In my previous life, this would have destroyed me. A teenager starving for his mother's approval, trapped in anxiety and spiraling toward depression.

But now, it didn't touch me at all.

Then came sixth grade.

Lucius burst through the front door in a panic, bolted to his room, and refused to come out for dinner.

Mom rushed to his door and knocked. "Lucius? What happened? Did something scare you while you were out playing?"

He wouldn't say a word.

I glanced at the date on the calendar. I already knew exactly what he'd done. He'd just shot out both eyes of someone's beloved dog, and now he was terrified.