Zostałem opiekunem moich sióstr bliźniaczek po śmierci mamy — moja narzeczona udawała, że ​​je kocha, dopóki nie usłyszałem, co naprawdę powiedziała

None of it had come from love.

I pictured Maya’s journals, stacked on her desk, each one labeled by season and filled with stories she never let anyone read. I thought of Lily’s dirt-stained fingers, gently pressing marigold seeds into the garden bed she’d built beside the fence, whispering to them like they were magic.

A smiling little girl standing in a garden | Source: Midjourney

I remembered the way they both said goodnight — soft and in sync, like they were casting a spell to protect each other in their sleep.

Jenna had seen all of that and seen a burden.

I sat there, gripping the steering wheel, jaw clenched, stomach twisted. My heart was pounding, not just from rage but from the ache of knowing how close I came to trusting the wrong person with everything I had left.

A man sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney

This wasn’t going to be a fight; this was the last chapter of Jenna’s role in our story.

I drove around the block for a little while, stopping to get the girls some pizza for dinner. And then I walked back in like nothing happened.

“Hey, honey! I’m home.”

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