Nope. Sorry. Group threads are too dangerous. I don’t trust myself not to send something to both of you that I was only supposed to send to Gabs. Technology has already been our downfall. I’m leaving the thread now.

Parisa has left this thread.

Wes

I’m so glad you’re okay. It’s insane how much I miss you.

Gabriela

I miss you, too. I’ll FaceTime you when my moms go to bed?

Wes

I can’t wait. I love you, Gabs.

PARISA

There’s nothing more unnerving than hearing your sister sob and hiccup from the other side of your bedroom wall when, until this moment, you’ve never even detected the slightest tremor in her voice. I don’t know if Neda’s ever cried in her life. Seriously, if my parents told me that she emerged from the womb with a yawn and a shrug, I would not be surprised. Being the “chill” sibling means that her emotions don’t run the gamut beyond content, bored, and sleepy—but right now, Neda doesn’t care if the entire neighborhood knows she’s in the throes of heartbreak. Everyone within a three-mile radius can probably hear her Ariana Grande–level wails, and the worst part is, I am the source of all her pain.

Bonnie, my therapist, was categorically wrong for telling me to be honest with my sister. This entire disaster could have been avoided if I just kept the incident on the balcony with Gideon to myself. I should have taken that kiss to my grave. I should have watched their relationship flourish and mature over the years. I should have stood there, smiling wide in my unflattering bridesmaid dress while they exchanged wedding vows. Instead, I chose to absolve my guilt and shatter my sister’s heart in the process.

Even my mom was confused by my public confession. Which I chose to do after dinner tonight, in the presence of our parents. Safety in numbers, I suppose.

“Maybe there was a better way to break that news to her,” she said, after we watched a shell-shocked Neda leave the table and storm off into her room.

The way she said it instantly made me feel like all this was my fault.

“Maybe,” I said. “But it would also be nice if everyone could remember that I liked Gideon first. No one seemed to ask how I was doing when she made a big show of returning from Yale as his girlfriend.”

“Parisa joon… I think it’s too late for that argument,” my dad replied. “That ship has wayyyyyy sailed.”

So now what am I supposed to do, Mom and Dad? Hide in my room forever? Throw myself off the balcony as penance? Slide a long-winded apology letter under her door? A foreign object hits the other side of my wall with a bang, and I’m pretty sure Neda just chucked her iPhone across her room.