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My vision blurs. “I would've been okay.”

Her smile falls. “I know.”

And somehow, that makes me cry, because she doesn't say No, you wouldn't. She doesn't tell me I'm too fragile or too broken to do this without her.

She believes me. I would've been okay.

But she came anyway.

“Come here,” she whispers.

I don't even make the decision. One second I'm standing in the doorway, and the next I'm in my sister's arms, holding on to her as tightly as she's holding on to me.

Familiar.

Home.

I bury my face against her shoulder.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“You should've told me.”

“Then you would've told me not to come.”

“Exactly.”

“Hence the surprise.”

I laugh into her shoulder. She laughs too, but I can feel her crying.

“God, I missed you,” I whisper.

Her arms tighten. “Missed you too.”

We stay like that for a while before she finally pulls back and cups my face between her hands, studying me.

“You look better.”

I sniff. “You just flew across the country to tell me I looked like shit before?”

“You did.”

“Fuck you.”

“There she is.”

I laugh and wipe my cheeks, but Chiara's gaze has already travelled over my shoulder.

“Is that…”

I know what she's looking at.

“Yeah.”

Her face crumples for half a second before she catches it, and I reach for her hand.