Her voice shook harder.
“I used to love coming to her class.”
She wiped her cheek.
“Then I started being scared I’d accidentally say something wrong.”
That broke my heart.
This was why her grades had collapsed.
Not laziness.
Not teenage rebellion.
She had been sitting in my classroom every morning carrying a secret that belonged to four adults.
Paul sank onto the couch.
“I’m sorry, Lily.”
She looked away.
Daniel finally spoke.
“She should never have been put between us.”
Paul met his brother’s eyes.
For perhaps the first time in years, there was no challenge in either man’s expression.
Only regret.
“I know,” Paul said.
Then he looked at me.
“I thought if Daniel and I could repair things first, I could tell you afterward. Once I knew it wasn’t going to fall apart again.”
“You were trying to make reality neat before giving it to me.”
He lowered his head.
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to do that.”
“I know.”
I shook my head.
“No. I think you’re only beginning to understand.”
Part 6 — No More Secrets
I didn’t forgive Paul that night.
There was no dramatic embrace.
No beautiful speech that repaired everything.
Real trust doesn’t work that way.
I told him I still loved him.
Then I told him something harder.
“I don’t trust you the same way I did yesterday.”
Paul cried.
So did I.
Daniel turned to Lily.
“I owe you an apology too.”
She looked at him.
“I made you responsible for protecting the peace between adults. That was wrong. None of this should have been yours to carry.”
Lily nodded.
She did not tell him it was okay.
I was glad.
Sometimes forgiveness should not be demanded simply because someone finally apologizes.
I looked at all three of them.
“From now on, there is one rule.”
Paul waited.
Daniel waited.
“No more secrets.”
Then I turned specifically toward Lily.
“And especially no secrets that you are expected to keep for us.”
Her eyes filled again.
“You’re sixteen years old. Our grief, our arguments, our family history—none of that is your responsibility.”
She stared down at her hands.
After a long silence, she whispered, “I don’t want you to think I’m Maggie.”
My chest tightened.
“I don’t.”
“But I look like her.”
I moved closer.
“You remind me of her sometimes.”
