That feels like a victory, however small.
"Have you eaten?" Astrid asks.
"I'm not hungry."
"That wasn't the question. Have you eaten?"
I try to remember.
Gunnar brought me something last night.
Soup, maybe?
I took a few bites.
"Not really."
"Then I'm getting you food. Real food. And you're going to eat it." She holds up a hand when I start to protest. "I don't care if you're not hungry. Your body needs fuel to heal. So you're going to eat something even if I have to feed you myself."
"You're bossy."
"I'm your big sister. It'sliterallymy job."
She disappears downstairs.
I lie back against the pillows.
Stare at the ceiling.
Try to make sense of everything swirling inside me.
Fear.
Anger.
Grief.
Hope.
All of it tangled together in a knot I can't unravel.
My eyes drift to my bare finger again.
The absence there is a constant ache.
A missing piece.
I think about the ring—the emerald that matched my eyes, the vintage setting, the diamonds that sparkled in the light.
I think about the woman who wore it for fifty years.
The love story it represented.
I was supposed to be the next chapter of that story.
And now?—
Now I don't know what I am.
