Chapter 2

Days later, the conversation about Italy was a forgotten speck of dust, at least to David.

Sarah was tidying David's cluttered desk, a space he rarely used for his college work but often for his band flyers and old setlists.

His laptop was open, asleep. She nudged the mouse to wake it, intending to close it down.

An email sat starkly on the screen.

A confirmation.

Five plane tickets to Rome and Florence.

The names listed were David, Mike, Jessica, Leo.

And Emily.

Her sister.

The trip was in five days.

Sarah's breath caught.

Her hand went to her mouth, stifling a sound she didn't know she was about to make.

Five tickets.

Not six.

The living room held a large, framed photo on the mantelpiece.

It was from a family beach vacation two years ago.

David, Mike, Jessica, Leo, all smiling, squinting in the sun.

And Emily, arm in arm with David, beaming, her blonde hair catching the light.

Sarah wasn't in it.

She'd been home, nursing a bad flu, the kind that left you weak and aching for a week.

"Emily was visiting, it was a last-minute thing," David had said when he returned, handing her a cheap seashell keychain.

"Don't be so dramatic, Sarah. She's your sister, she wanted to see the ocean."

Dramatic. For wanting to be included. For feeling erased.

A few months ago, Emily had visited for dinner.

She'd regaled them with stories of her latest influencer trip, her voice bright, her gestures expansive.

After Emily left, David had paced the living room, restless.

He'd stopped in front of Sarah, his eyes critical.

"Emily's so vibrant, so full of life," he'd said, his voice laced with a familiar discontent.

"Look at you, Sarah. You've really let yourself go."

He'd sighed, a theatrical sound.

"I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like..."

He hadn't finished the sentence, didn't need to.

The implication hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Sarah had said nothing then, just turned and started clearing the dinner plates.

What was there to say?

Now, staring at the email, the unspoken words, the casual cruelties, the constant sidelining, it all coalesced.

This wasn't an oversight.

This was a choice. Their choice.

A trip she had dreamed of for thirty years, a promise he had made to her, was being given to everyone else.

Including the sister he openly admired more than his own wife.

The house, her house, suddenly felt very cold.

She closed the laptop, her movements precise, almost mechanical.

The image of the five tickets burned behind her eyes.