Chapter 1 – A Boy Who Never FlinchedI was seven years old the first time I truly understood my sister was different in a way the world would apparently punish her for. Annie was six, exactly one year behind me. Her whole face lit up whenever anyone said her name kindly. Most children, I quickly learned, didn’t actually say it kindly at all. They pointed at her openly, laughed cruelly, teased her until she cried.

At the twins’ dedication ceremony a few months later, my uncle raised his glass high. “Some men become husbands,” he said warmly. “Levi became a genuine protector instead.”

The whole room erupted into warm applause. I looked over at my brother-in-law, holding one baby steady while Annie cradled the other tenderly against her chest.

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I understood, right then, that our real family had genuinely only just begun.

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