“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said. “Lena and I are engaged.”
The words didn’t land properly. They just hovered there.
Lena took his hand, fingers lacing naturally. “I know it’s a lot,” she said softly. “But we’ve been leaning on each other for a long time.”
Dad nodded. “After your mom passed, Lena was here every day. She helped me function. She’s been living here for months.”
Months. I hadn’t known.
He talked about love. About not wasting time. About life being short.
I smiled and nodded because I didn’t know what else to do.
Over the next weeks, everyone praised Lena.
“She stepped right in.”
“Your mom would have wanted this.”
“She’s such a blessing.”
I stayed quiet. I was twenty-three, old enough to understand grief made people do strange things. And I wanted my father to be okay.
But it felt wrong.
At a small pre-wedding gathering, I watched Lena move through the room confidently. She wore her hair the way my mom always had. A low bun, loose strands framing her face. I couldn’t stop noticing.
That’s when my grandmother found me.
“You look heartbroken,” she said gently.
“I don’t understand how this is happening so fast,” I admitted. “It feels like Mom didn’t even get time to be gone.”
My grandmother’s face tightened. She took my hand.
“You need to know the truth,” she whispered. “And I can’t tell you here. Come with me.”
We left quietly and took a taxi to her house. My heart raced the entire way.
She went to the attic and brought down a box filled with photo albums and notebooks.
“I never dressed them alike,” she said suddenly.
