Three nights after my wedding, a knock echoed through the cabin as rain tapped softly against the windows. Ethan was asleep upstairs, and Daniel was in the kitchen preparing tea. Curious and uneasy, I walked to the door.
When I opened it, I froze. Standing on the porch was Vanessa. She looked thinner than I remembered, her pale face marked by a scar that spoke of years of hardship and survival.
Daniel hurried to my side, but I stopped him with a glance. Vanessa raised her hands slightly and assured us she wasn’t there to cause trouble. Her voice was calm, almost fragile.
For a long moment, none of us spoke. We simply stared at each other—two sisters connected by blood, separated by tragedy, and shaped by very different lives-
