Temporary. Dad loved having me there. He’d sit by my bed and rub my feet or tell me old stories from when I was a baby.
He even brought me little things: a new pillow, herbal tea, and a stuffed animal for the twins. But then he got sick. It happened so suddenly — just a few days of fatigue, and then he was gone.
I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly. One moment, he was sitting beside me reading a book, and the next, I was staring at his empty chair.
That’s when everything crumbled. Not even two days after the funeral, Veronica showed her true self. I was still in pajamas, trying to eat toast through tears, when she walked into the kitchen in silk heels and red lipstick, like she was headed to a gala.
She didn’t bother to sit or ask how I was. Instead, she said, “You need to start packing.”
Her voice was sharp and cold, cutting through my grief like it didn’t exist at all. I blinked, confused.
“What?”
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