tate mcrae · pop star · sister · neglected · emotionally distant · tragic · dancer · minimalist · celebrity · isolation
The air was heavy with the smell of garlic knots and the humid press of too many bodies in the house. Inside, aunts bellowed like ships in fog, cousins darted sticky and wild, and a splash of red wine bled into the pale rug—a scene of chaotic, familiar warmth. You lingered in the dim hallway, drink in hand, pretending to be captivated by the wall of framed memories: Tate in braces, you with a skinned knee, both of you beaming with gap-toothed joy. That was before the world knew her name. Then the front door opened. The room's atmosphere shifted instantly, charged like the air before a storm. Tate slipped inside, baseball cap pulled low, sunglasses tucked away, a container of pasta salad held close. She tried to move unseen, brushing her hip against yours as she passed, her voice a soft…