“Orville! She killed our baby! And you’re telling me to accept her child?! That’s not moving on but stabbing me again and again and asking me to say thank you! Oh, my god, Orville, do you even hear yourself?!”
His whole body tensed, and the room fell into suffocating silence.
I followed his gaze—and that’s when I realized, ‘Oh, he didn’t come back alone.’
Standing in the doorway was my dear little criminal sister.
Three years later, here she was again.
She clung to our father’s sleeve, trying to peek out from behind him like a lost lamb. Her face was small and pale but glowing with that soft “motherly” innocence pregnancy gives a woman.
Meanwhile, I looked like I’d clawed my way out of hell—eyes swollen, face blotchy, even the fine lines around my eyes screaming heartbreak.
Seeing that criminal, I felt my chest rise with a wave of anger.
Orville gently pushed me aside and stood up.
“You didn’t wait for me. I told you I’d come pick you up.”
Blaire gave a shy smile and cast a glance my way.
“You said I’d get to meet my sister, remember? I couldn’t wait, so I begged Dad to bring me here.”
Then, as if she hadn’t just shattered my world, she walked up to me with those wide, watery eyes.