Just like that, I became invisible again. It was like watching a switch flip—suddenly all their attention laser focused on Sarah and her pregnancy. The familiar ache of being overlooked settled back into my chest, an old friend I’d foolishly thought I’d left behind.
“So—who’s the father?” I asked during dinner, trying to join the conversation. “Have you told him about the baby?”
Sarah’s face darkened. “That’s my business,” she snapped, pushing her peas around her plate. “I don’t need to share every detail of my personal life.”
Mom jumped to her defense immediately. “Karen, don’t pry. Your sister doesn’t have to explain herself to anyone.”
I couldn’t help but notice how different this response was from when I was going through fertility treatments. Back then, they’d had no problem demanding updates and offering unsolicited advice about my personal life.
“But how are you planning to manage on your own?” I pressed during another dinner, watching her heap seconds onto her plate. “Babies are expensive.”
Sarah waved her hand dismissively, that familiar smirk playing on her lips. “Don’t worry about my baby. We won’t need anything from anyone. I’ve got it all figured out.”