al hair. The ocean below roared like a beast awakened, its waves crashing into the jagged rocks with

ill white. Prist

less comfort of wine offered by cousins she didn't even like, or worse-her father's silence.

e. To the one place no one

lery of

ailed artist who traded paint for pearls after marrying wealth. The gallery had closed after Faye vanished.

y overtaking the stone façade, and the front door hanging

it smelled of salt, rot, and t

ng dress dirtied at the hem with seaweed and sand. Her hair, darker than Alora remembered, whip

Faye said,

e walked in slow, her heels echoing

ittle cryptic message? You married my fiancé. You ruined m

with humor, but with disbelief. "Y

stole from the gallery. You left me to face the wreckage. Then

er eyes sharp. "Jeffrey

opose to me? Why di

ice cracked like breaking glass. "Someone simple. Predictable. He wanted a life w

her throat. She hated h

r voice low, "you've alwa

d. "But neither of us ever had a c

s Ago – The Same Ga

d with color and light, the Gallery o

her notebook: Venetian glass sculpture, 19th-century Frenc

ronze bust of their great-grandfather an

e said, tossing her ashes into a cracked teacu

t to end up lost,

nd said, "Maybe being lost is the

n the

aid, snapping the memory like brittle glass. "Tell me why yo

whispered.

inked. "

m her pocket-a letter. Old, yellowing, creased

wo months before he propose

it with tremb

iving someone else's life. She's good to me. But you were the truth. Th

ed onto the bench beside the broke

you," she

cause I couldn't handle it. Not then. I thought you

came back,"

ye said. "He found me. Told me everything. Begged me to come

sted. "And you agre

ust like that. I made him

le

e fog thickened. The gallery groa

to her fe

ove him?"

"Enough to ruin e

ing broken glass. "Then congr

ghout the story; the truth in ink th

ry, thunder rumbled over the sea.

e, a new me

m J

take. But I might be. P

p at the storm

e end. It was

er s

e rec

re in t