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My breath catches.

“I was afraid love could disappear without warning.”

The cemetery seems to go silent around me, though the cicadas continue screaming from the trees.

“You proved it could.”

I lift my head from the stone when the truth hit me like a hammer to my head.

Charlie is my broken part.

My brother isn’t a wound I need to remove or an excuse I can hand to Ryan. His death created the first truth my frightened mind accepted without question: anyone I loved could be ripped from me, and I would be left behind while the world continued moving.

My parents could stop loving the child who survived because she wasn’t the one they lost. My body could betray me. My mind could collapse. My friends could choose someone else. Ryan could wake up one day and understand loving me cost more than I was worth.

Control became the only answer I trusted.

If I managed every room, remained perfect, and gave people the version of me least likely to disappoint them, maybe they wouldn’t leave. When control failed, I changed the meaning of what happened until I could pretend I chose the loss.

That is what I did to Ryan.

He left because I betrayed him. I dismissed his pain and called it my illness, his silence became punishment, and his night with Temple I treated as disloyalty because accepting the truth meant admitting I could love someone with my entire soul and still be disappointed.

I press my palm against Charlie’s name.

“You died, and I decided loving people meant never disappointing them and in doing that I never realized they were disappointing me.”

My voice breaks again.

“That isn’t your fault, but I made it your legacy.”

For almost fourteen years, Charlie has existed inside our family as a reason. Lance controls because Charlie died. Mom surrenders because Charlie died. I perform, starve, hide, and panic because Charlie died.

He deserves better than becoming the excuse for everything we did to one another after losing him.

“So, I’m giving it back.”

Tears move over my mouth as I trace one finger across the first letter of his name.

“You get to be my brother again. You don’t have to be the warning that everything I love will disappear on me if I stop controlling it. You don’t have to carry Lance’s behavior, Mom’s silence, my illness, or what I did to Ryan.”

My throat closes around his name.

“I am not letting your death cost me the living anymore.”

The anger leaves slowly. It doesn’t disappear or transform into peace. It drains out through every tear until I can breathe without fighting my own body for the air.

“I miss you,” I whisper. “I barely remember your voice, and sometimes I don’t know whether my memories are mine or stories everyone told so many times that I claimed them.”

I rest my cheek against the headstone. “I wish you were here to tell me our Dad’s a dick.”

A watery laugh escapes me.

“You would’ve liked Ryan. He would’ve acted like he didn’t care whether you approved, then spent months pretending not to notice every time you looked at him. You probably would’ve been horrible together.”

The thought hurts, but I let it.

“I love him.”