Mai Gui barely came to my shoulders, but she stood with an authoritative air that added inches to her height. I felt my shoulders straightening whenever I looked her way. She walked with quick precision, her legs like scissors cutting through our home. When she spoke, she didn’t look at Lee but focused on the object of her discussion instead, as if assured her son was right behind her, eager to answer her questions.
And he was.
I felt like an unwanted baby tagging along after older, wiser siblings who didn’t bother to include me in their conversation, or a balloon caught carelessly in a child’s hand and pulled along for the ride. The only thing tethering me in place was Lee’s hand in mine, his fingers familiar and warm around my own.