“That’s enough. Maybe Caroline reacted too quickly, but she has always been sensitive. You know that.”

I let out a joyless laugh. “Ah yes, Caroline’s famous sensitivity… The one that excuses everything, since always.”

Caroline turned scarlet. “What’s your problem? You still hate me because I was the favorite?”

She spat out those words almost mechanically, as if she knew she was protected.

And that’s when everything shifted.

“No, Caroline. I resent you because you were the only one who was protected.”

I turned toward my mother. “And I resent you because you turned her into what she is today.”

My mother flinched. “Don’t talk like that…”

“Why not?” I asked. “Do you remember when I was eleven and she pushed me down the stairs? Who did you scold? Me. Because I should have been careful. When I was fifteen and she stole my birthday money, who did you accuse? Me. Because I must have misplaced it. When she insulted me, belittled me, hurt me… you said: ‘Leave her alone, she’s fragile.’”

I bent down to pick up the pieces of plate around Emma.

“Today she doesn’t throw insults anymore. She throws objects. At a child. And you still find an excuse.”

My mother brought a hand to her mouth. Caroline remained frozen, as if the ground had opened beneath her.

“You created a monster… and you expect me to keep quiet?”

My voice trembled.

“Not this time. Not in front of my daughter.”