it.
“OPEN ON OUR 21ST BIRTHDAY.”
My breath stopped.
Leila’s fork slipped from her hand.
It clattered against her plate.
“No,” she whispered.
Mom covered her mouth.
“She made this before she died,” Mom said, her voice breaking. “She knew the illness was taking her. One night, she asked me for a box. She said she wanted to give you both something when you turned continue reading …
