They’d love it.
A fallen patriarch.
A legacy of abuse.
The daughter who broke the cycle.
Then a line break. A pause she built on purpose.
But I don’t want to destroy him.
I want to understand us.
Us.
I laugh, but it comes out thin.
I want to know you.
Not the version they edited.
The real one.
Another pause.
I think we’re more alike than different.
I think it runs in the family.
My fingers tighten on the paper.
She isn’t threatening me.
She’s inviting me.
And that’s worse.
I flip the page.
I know what you did to survive.
I know what it costs to be the one who doesn’t break the way everyone expects.
You lost a sister.
I lost a childhood.
Sophie flickers through me—not her face, just the space she used to take up. The way she leaned into me when she was tired. The way she believed things would get better because she needed to.
I force the thought away.
I had sweetness once.
It didn’t save her.
The letter doesn’t say Sophie’s name.
It doesn’t have to.
