Sally's POV
For several moments, we sit in silence. The kitchen feels thick with memories of Mum's melodic laugh and Dad's gentle presence, fragments of our former life that suddenly seem displaced in this new reality. Yet beneath the weight of revelation lies something reassuring. Juliette's fingers intertwined with mine. The unspoken understanding that whatever lies ahead, we'll navigate it side by side. The certainty that our bond remains unshakeable.
Eventually, Juliette releases a quiet breath and settles back into her seat. "Actually," she begins, her voice gaining stability, "there might be someone who could have been aware. Do you remember Mum's longtime friend... what did we call her? The woman who showed up every Christmas bearing those dreadful cosmetic kits that left us covered in rashes."
A soft chuckle escapes me. "Julia. Dear God, yes. She embraced us with such force I was certain she'd snap my ribs in half."
