Amber approached first, her arm in a sling, crocodile tears ready in her eyes. “Emerald,” she said softly, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I never wanted things to get this bad between us.”
I looked at her, forcing a small smile. “Me too. I’m sorry… for everything.”
Nathan placed a hand on her shoulder, feigning concern. “We’re family, Emerald,” he said, his tone almost tender. “Let’s not make this worse than it already is.”
They played their part well—two perfect victims, all sympathy and sweetness. I mirrored their act, smiling faintly, nodding in all the right places.
When they finally left, I exhaled, the smile falling off my face like a mask I no longer needed.
That night, the hospital felt too quiet. The clock on the wall ticked endlessly as I stared at the dark window. My mother sat by the edge of the bed, her coat folded over her arm.
Then, just past midnight, the door opened again—softly this time.
“Ms. Emerald?” a man whispered. “It’s time.”
My mother stood, glancing at me. “Are you ready?”
I nodded.