My half-sister, Neve, was fifteen when she walked out of our house for the last time. She didn’t look back. Didn’t explain. Didn’t answer calls. One slammed door, and she vanished into a life with her father—a man she barely knew. And Mom… Mom broke in a way I’d never seen. Grief didn’t just sit inside her; it hollowed her out. I spent years resenting Neve. Hating her, even. Watching Mom get sick from heartbreak, watching her stare at the front door like Neve would magically reappear. She never did. Six years later, Mom died without ever seeing her again....
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