couch, a modest kitchen table, and a bed that barely fit against the far wall-but it was hers. Every creak in the floor, every
days since she le
f silence f
her body turning to the other side of the be
feared they would try to convince her to go back, to reconsider. And another part... the deep
er face was paler, her cheekbones more defined than usual. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed h
her palm to
al, as Kaelan's family had so kindly put it. Infertile. Inadequate. A ba
just her womb
was
er everything, her
th his cousins, the dinners where the only thing on the table thicker than the soup was the tension. She had given and given unt
plac
at didn't i
ed air. She needed a distraction. So she took the train downtown and wandered
okstores. The air smelled of oil paint and wood varnish. Abstract canvases filled the walls-chaotic strokes
se, huh?" a voice
painting she had been staring at-an explosion of jagged lines a
like it," she
aid. "But I can't
tly. "Maybe tha
r. "You look like yo
obvi
ple who've h
so did he-off to the next painting, off to the next thought. But his wor
nce. The gallery, the stranger, the silence-they all reminded her of something she had forgotten: she
uld sit in the garden behind her dorm and lose herself in watercolors, sketching faces that di
sketchpad she'd thrown in during the move.
, stared at it for a long t
hand trembled.
But one hand was fading, the lines softer, like it was d
eath h
pped th
ears
l
nting. She sank to the floor, hugging her knees, rocking herself as the flood of emoti
for what s
she had
rself that she had gi
ed. She sat in the corner of the living room
't feel
felt c
received a letter. Handwr
iliar slant of the cursive
el
gers, she unfolded
es
rst way. I know I chose cowardice over courage. But please know-losing y
is: I was wrong. About everything. About what family means. About what legacy me
my home,
ver long it takes-for yo
Ka
er back up. A dozen thoughts swirled thro
n't know wh
t
eeded
ace to become
elan's
an who was
man who ch