My sister and I walked the same road—same medical school, same sleepless nights. But when it was over, our parents cleared her debt… and left mine behind.

She took Jessica’s arm, effectively separating us, then glanced back at me. “Audrey, could you check if the Caterers have put out the gluten-free options? Your cousin Beth is being difficult about her diet again.”

And just like that, I was relegated to catering management while Jessica was paraded before Hospital administrators. Some things never changed.

I was directing weight staff to the correct table when Dr Fleming arrived. She looked elegant in a crimson pants suit, commanding attention without effort.

“Audrey,” she said warmly, embracing me. “Are you ready for our announcement?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “The timing feels complicated.”

Fleming surveyed the party, taking in the banner, the professionally decorated cake with just Jessica’s name, the slideshow of photos that featured Jessica prominently—with me occasionally visible in the background. “I see,” she said quietly. “More complicated than I realized.”

Across the Terrace, I watched as my parents introduced Jessica to Dr Margaret woo, the chief neurosurgeon at Detroit Medical Center, where both Jessica and I had applied for residency positions. My stomach clenched. Were they trying to secure Jessica a spot through personal connections?

“Dr Fleming!” my father had spotted her and was now approaching with my mother and Jessica in toe. “What an honor to have you join us. I understand you’ve done some work with Audrey.”

“Some work?” Dr Fleming raised an eyebrow. “Audrey has been my primary research partner for the past two years. Her contribution to our traumatic brain injury study was instrumental to its success.”

My parents exchanged a glance I couldn’t quite interpret.

“How nice,” my mother said vaguely. “Jessica has also been very involved in Neurosurgical research. In fact, Dr Woo was just saying how impressed she is with Jessica’s application to her program.”

I felt a flush of anger rising in my cheeks. Jessica hadn’t done Neurosurgical research. Her Focus was neuropsychiatry, an entirely different field. My parents were blatantly misrepresenting her experience, potentially at the expense of my own opportunities.

Dr Fleming’s expression remained pleasant, but I could see a Steely glint in her eyes. “Is that so? How fascinating. I was under the impression that Jessica’s Focus was on psychiatric applications rather than surgical interventions.”