Page 34 of Broken Secrets
Me: That would be amazing. Scary, but amazing.
Emma: Really?
Me: I think so. Yeah. I mean, it’s a lot to think about, but yes. I’d want to meet you.
Emma: That’s so cool! I’ll talk to Dad about it. He’s going to be so excited.
Me: Emma?
Emma: Yeah?
Me: Thank you. For reaching out. I never would have been brave enough to message you first.
Emma: Thank you for answering. I was so nervous you’d think I was some weird stalker girl.
Me: Never
Emma: I should probably get some sleep. School tomorrow. But can we keep talking? Like, regularly?
Me: I’d love that.
Emma: Good. Maybe we can figure out this sister thing together.
Me: Sounds like a plan.
Emma: Good night, Olivia. I’m really glad I finally worked up the courage to message you.
Me: Good night, Emma. Me too.
The conversation ends, but I keep staring at the screen, rereading parts of it to make sure I didn’t imagine the whole thing. Emma is real. She wants to know me.
The realization should make me happy, but instead it makes me angry. Angry at mom for keeping this from me. Angry at the eighteen years we all lost because she decided what was best for everyone without consulting anyone. Angry at the lies and the secrets and the careful way she’s constructed our life to avoid this exact moment.
But it’s too late to be angry about the lost years. The only thing I can control is what happens next.
I get up from my bed, legs shaky from sitting still for so long, and walk to my bedroom door. Downstairs, I can hear the faint sound of the television and Mom and Robert’s quiet conversation. Normal evening sounds from a normal family night.
Except nothing about this is normal anymore.
I walk downstairs. Looking over at Mom and Robert who are on the couch watching some detective show, her feet tucked under his legs, his hand absently stroking her hair. They look comfortable and content, like two people who’ve built a good life together despite the complications that brought them here.
They look up as I appear in the doorway, and Mom’s expression immediately shifts to concern.
“Hey sweetie,” she says, muting the television. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Robert sits up straighter, alert to the tension in the room.
I take a breath, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure they can hear it. There’s no going back from this moment. Once I say the words, everything changes.
“Mom,” I say, my voice steadier than I expected. “I spoke to Emma.”
The color drains from her face completely. Robert looks confused, glancing between us.
“Emma,” she whispers.
CHAPTER TEN
The silencethat follows my words stretches like a taut wire, ready to snap. Mom sits frozen on the couch, her face drained of all color, staring at me like I’ve just announced the apocalypse. Robert shifts forward slightly, his expression serious but not shocked. He’s always been good at reading between the lines, and I can tell he understands exactly what this means.
