Then I started digging through everything.
Home movies.
Old phone recordings.
Archived social-media videos.
Family footage I had saved over the years.
At first, I was making exactly what Elise had requested.
Then I began noticing something.
The footage told a completely different story from the one my family liked to tell.
There was Elise being celebrated.
Elise receiving gifts.
Elise being praised.
Then there was me.
Usually somewhere at the edge of the frame.
Ignored.
Overlooked.
Sometimes openly mocked.
I found clips I had completely forgotten existed.
Dad saying,
“Don’t film him. Keep the camera on Elise.”
Mom saying Elise was the only child she could really brag about.
Elise joking that I was basically the family ghost.
I sat alone at my editing desk watching those moments repeat themselves.
No explanation was necessary.
The pattern was right there.
Recorded.
Dated.
Unedited.
Then I found one clip I almost deleted.
"At my sister’s wedding, my father leaned close enough that only I could hear him. “Try not to ruin this the way you ruin everything else.”
