“I need to tell you something.” She took a deep breath. “I used to want to write a cookbook. It was a dream I had for a long time. And I almost did, at one point. But I lost that dream because of you.”

Saira looked at her, dark eyes wide. “What?”

So, Reena told her the whole story.

And Saira said nothing. Nothing except sorry.

“You knew I had the blog,” Reena said, “and you wrote almost a thousand words about how amateur food writers and their decadent creations were contributing to the downfall of society. It was grossly hyperbolic, and it directly attacked something I cared about,” Reena said, strangely annoyed that Saira wasn’t more defensive.

“I know.” Her sister looked down, fussing with the hummus, swirling a deep groove into it with the back of a spoon. “And it wasn’t completely … unintentional.” She sighed, looking at Reena through glassy eyes. “I didn’t think you would lose your blog or anything, I just … became weirdly obsessed with your popularity … and I guess I wanted to take you down a peg. Living with little Miss Perfect messed me up.”

“What? I’m hardly perfect!”

Saira still didn’t look at her, and still spoke quietly. “Seriously, Reena? I have a degree in nutrition and food, and all anyone ever talks about is what a great cook you are. Even in your personal life, you’ve had this best friend for years who is always there when you need her. You and Khizar have a better relationship with each other than you’ve ever had with me. You had a blog with thousands of readers. Not to mention men … I’ve had a grand total of three relationships, and you’ve had, what, eleven boyfriends?”

“Twelve,” Reena corrected. Technically, thirteen, but Reena’s mind still reeled from what Saira had said. Reena? Perfect?

“I was a mess. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” She paused and looked at Reena. “My therapist is helping me learn to stop automatically comparing my life to others and enjoy where I’m at now. It’s so hard because I hated myself so much …”

Saira hated herself? Well, join the club. At least Reena didn’t resort to ruining family members’ dreams when she went through a bout of self-loathing.

“I’m sorry, Reena,” Saira said again, finally meeting Reena’s eyes. “I didn’t know about your cookbook. Maybe you can try for it again? I can ask—”

“No. It’s not something I have time for right now. Job search and all.”

They were silent for a while before Reena crossed the kitchen and put the lids on the dips. She honestly didn’t know how to feel—she’d had some vague idea that if one day she confronted Saira about how much her actions had hurt her, she would gain closure and get over it. It was supposed to feel cathartic. But it turned out this wasn’t a Lifetime movie, and it wasn’t so simple. Years of sibling rivalry encouraged by their parents and months of resentment couldn’t be tied up in a neat bow and put behind them. Maybe with work, the relationship could be saved, and Reena could learn to appreciate how much Saira had grown. But trusting her now was hard—Reena had been burned too many times.