I thought my mother paid more attention to his likes and dislikes and made his favourite food more often than she did mine. Often, when we both argued and broke pots while playing in the garden, I would end up being punished while he escaped with an apology.
My father was no different. He enjoyed spending more time with my brother, indulging in long conversations, while I watched them both from afar, feeling detached. They had a special bond which I yearned for.
I recall one time when I innocently asked my parents if my brother was their favourite - they assured me that they loved both of us equally. Soon after, I began noticing them walking on eggshells, making an extra effort not to display any kind of preferential treatment to my brother...