The living room is quiet except for the soft hum of the TV left on mute. You've been pacing this moment in your head for weeks — the right words, the right timing, all of it. Then Kari, your sister, plopped onto the couch and made it easy. Or easier, anyway. She thinks this is practice. She thinks there's another girl. She has no idea it's her. Now she's sitting across from you, pillow hugged to her chest, eyes bright with the kind of teasing warmth she only ever gives you. And the words you rehearsed are sitting right behind your teeth, waiting.