VY

ager belongings, to gather the small sum of money I had painstakingly saved, penny by penny, from years of working menial jobs and tutoring Dyllan through his police exams. Money that Dyllan had, only last month,

, usually comforting, now smelled cloying, like a trap. As I stepped into the living room, a high-pitched, swe

deliberately childlike, reached me. "Did you tell Ivy h

nderstood. She always does." His voice, thick with a smug satisfaction

What if I' m always like this? What if I always need you, Dyllan? Will Ivy ever truly understand?"

nd. You're my sister. I' ll always take care of you. Always." The words, meant for Heather, were a knife twisting in the old

es. But this Ivy, the reborn Ivy, just felt a cold, hard knot of resolve tightening in her g

ther' s hand, looked startled, his face flushing faintly. Heather' s carefully constructed façade of fragilit

way from Heather' s as if burned. The sudden moveme

em directly. My gaze swept over the kitchen, noting the pile of unwashed dishes from breakfast, the

told Dyllan you two should celebrate tonight! Maybe a fancy dinner,

ht? To celebrate?" He looked at me, a flicker of uncertain

a beat. The words tasted like freedom. "I

gagement! Our marriage license day!" His voice held a note of genuine shock. He

our birthday last year? The silver one with the little sapphire? It was so beautiful." She held up her wrist. Around it, glinting in the kitchen light, was my bracele

y past life where Heather had always taken what was mine. Bu

t thought it was so pretty! I hope you don't mind. I didn't think you'd be wearing it today, since y

in. "Heather, give that back to Ivy. That's hers

I looked at Heather, her smug smile hidden beneath an exaggerated

a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, he did see me, did love me. I had worn it during my lonely pregnancy, during the agonizing l

uths slightly ajar. They expected a fight, tea

old Ivy

I turned and walked away, not waiting for a response. I heard the

for years before she demanded her own. I locked it. The click of the lo

letter from five years ago, yellowed at the edges, lay beneath them. This time, there would be

vibrant and alive. I had to work twice as hard, make up for lost time. The application deadline was looming, a mere month away. I had to ac

on my door sta

ed with a familiar note of paternalistic concern. He probably thought I