“There she is!”
I looked up, and my breath stopped completely.
A little girl who could have been Wren’s exact reflection stood near the doors, backpack slung over one shoulder, laughing at something.
But what actually shattered me wasn’t the girl herself.
It was who was holding her hand.
It wasn’t a stranger.
It was Paige. My own sister.
“Paige,” I whispered, my voice barely working. “I never imagined this from you.”
And standing there on that sidewalk, watching my sister’s face go through a rapid, horrified cascade of recognition, I understood, all at once, that I had spent six years living inside a lie I’d never once been given the chance to question.
Paige froze completely, her hand still wrapped around Elisa’s small fingers.
“Adele,” she said. “I can explain.”
“Please do,” I said. “Because right now, I’m looking at a dead daughter walking into school holding your hand.”
