No one in the Ramirez household expected thirteen-year-old Lila to feel anything but excitement about her baby brother’s arrival. For months, she had helped paint his room, folded tiny onesies, and even chosen the stuffed bear that would sit in his crib. But once Mateo was born, everything changed in ways no one could have predicted.
It wasn’t hatred that grew inside Lila—it was something quieter, colder, more confusing. Jealousy crept in like a slow-moving shadow. Every relative who came through the door seemed to look past her. Every conversation began with, “How’s the baby?” Every night, her parents were too exhausted even to ask about her day. And every morning, the house felt just a little less like hers.
The moment that would later be retold again and again began on a windy Saturday afternoon. The family was preparing for Mateo’s first-month celebration, and guests were already starting to arrive. Lila slipped away from the bustle, searching for silence—something that had become increasingly rare. She wandered up the back staircase to the old rooftop terrace, a place she had once claimed as her own secret retreat.
But she didn’t go there alone.
Cradled awkwardly in her arms was Mateo, bundled in a soft blue blanket, sleeping peacefully. Lila wasn’t supposed to carry him without an adult present, but the impulse had surged through her almost before she realized what she was doing. She just wanted space—space where no one else existed but her and the brother who had unknowingly changed her world.
When she reached the terrace, the wind whipped through her hair. She stepped closer to the stone ledge, looking out over the backyard where guests were mingling. No one noticed her, not even her parents. Her grip tightened around the baby.
For a terrifying second, a thought flashed through her mind—one she didn’t want, one that scared her even as it arrived. It wasn’t a plan, not even a desire, but a burst of desperate anger mixed with loneliness. It was the moment people later exaggerated into whispers and headlines. “She tried to throw him!” they’d say, though the truth was more complicated.
Because just as quickly as the thought came, it shattered.
Lila froze, horrified at herself. The weight of what she could have done—what she never actually intended to do—snapped her back to reality. She clutched Mateo tightly, stepping away from the ledge as tears sprang to her eyes.
Within seconds, her mother appeared in the doorway, breathless, pale, having realized the baby was gone. She rushed forward, sweeping Mateo safely into her arms, but when she saw Lila’s face—tear-streaked, trembling—her anger melted into something softer.
Lila broke. The jealousy, the fear of being forgotten, the overwhelming loneliness—it all poured out.
Her mother knelt, pulling her close. “You’re still my daughter,” she whispered. “Nothing will ever change that.”
And for the first time since Mateo’s birth, Lila believed her.
