written about wondering which girl would talk first.
Whether June still had her birthmark.
Whether Ava had developed Marcus’s dimples.
Whether Claire still slept with one hand curled beside her face.
Reading those letters forced me to reconsider a truth I had accepted for most of my adult life.
Vanessa had not forgotten them.
But that did not mean she had done enough.
A person can love someone and still fail them terribly.
That was perhaps the hardest truth of all.
Vanessa’s shame had become an excuse.
Carol’s protectiveness had become control.
My anger had become certainty.
Everyone had told themselves stories that made their choices easier to live with.
The girls refused to do that.
They did not turn Vanessa into a monster.
They also refused to turn her into a victim.
June met her for coffee first.
Ava followed weeks later.
Claire waited longer.
Vanessa accepted that.
She
