Each year, my son planted sunflowers in memory of his twin sister who passed away—then one morning, we discovered them all cut down, with a white box left behind.

and over, even though none of this had been her fault. She’d been used too.

Patrick listened quietly.

Then he said, “You didn’t hurt us. He did.”

I saw Emily’s shoulders loosen with relief.

Together we cleared the broken stems from the garden. My father brought fresh soil. My mother brought lemonade, though no one drank much of it at first.

Then we opened continue reading …