She mocked me for being just admin in front of everyone. Then her fiancée asked what I did. I said one word.
The room froze.
Her parents looked pale. And she finally realized who I was.
I’m Abigail Matthews, 32, standing in the corner at my sister Hannah’s engagement party, watching her flaunt her ring. Nobody here knows I’m the youngest judge appointed in our district in 50 years.
To my family, I’m just an admin assistant.
And Hannah never misses a chance to remind everyone. She just mocked my career in front of her fiancée, Nathan, a prominent attorney. If only she knew we’d met before in my courtroom.
The silence that followed my one-word response changed everything.
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The revelation that followed changed everything. Growing up with Hannah was like living in perpetual shadow.
Five years my senior, she was always the center of attention in our household.
From an early age, I learned that in the Matthews family, Hannah’s achievements were celebrated with fanfare, while mine were acknowledged with polite nods. Hannah got the lead in the school play. My mother would announce to everyone who would listen.
Hannah’s been accepted to three colleges with scholarships.
My father would beam with pride. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents.
Robert and Elizabeth Matthews. They’re good people who provided us with a comfortable upper middle-class life in suburban Boston, but they never quite figured out how to celebrate both daughters equally.
Hannah was loud and confident, demanding attention, while I was quieter, more reflective.
In our household, the squeaky wheel definitely got the grease. I remember bringing home straight A’s in middle school, excited to show my report card to my parents. That same day, Hannah had been selected for a regional debate team.
Guess which achievement dominated dinner conversation that night.
“Aby’s always been the easy one,” my mother would tell her friends. “Hannah needs more attention.”
As if requiring less attention somehow made my accomplishments less worthy of recognition.
By high school, I had developed a thick skin and found validation in my own achievements rather than waiting for my parents’ approval. I joined the mock trial team and discovered my passion for law.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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