Page 211 of This Life of Mine
Her mouth slightly curves. “I know who you are.”
That’s all she says. And somehow, it’s everything.
I pull her into me. Firm enough to feel her heartbeat against my chest. To ground myself in the reality of her.
I’m not torn in two directions. I’m anchored.
Whatever comes next—whoever thought they could pull me back into the shadows—they’re going to learn one thing very quickly. Big fucking mistake.
Epilogue One
Peter
This prison never really sleeps. It only pretends to.
The lights dim. The noise drops to a murmur. Men like me scroll through lives we’re no longer allowed to touch.
Everyone’s cell phones are hidden. Everything about having one is wrong.
That’s why we keep it. That’s why we all have one.
I swipe through TikTok without thinking—noise, chaos, people pretending they’re fine—until flashing red and blue stops my thumb.
Police. EMTs. A woman across the street from a storefront, taking video of something happening outside.
Enchanted Nook,the caption says.
I don’t recognize the place. I turn the volume up only enough to hear the sound beneath the cover of my blanket.
Someone’s narrating from too far away. The camera shakes—and then it lands on her.
She sits on the curb while a paramedic kneels in front of her, gently cleaning the scrapes on her hands. Angry red marksstreak her skin, but nothing looks life-threatening. Even so, she holds herself rigid, every muscle braced, accepting the treatment without ever relaxing into it.
My gaze catches on her face.
No.
My body surges upright before I realize I’ve moved.
It can’t be.
Black hair. The same eyes. The same stubborn tilt of her chin I always hated.
Lina. My half-sister.
A disbelieving laugh escapes me.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Typical. Always in the middle of something—pulling attention without trying.
She did that when we were kids too—standing between things. Inserting herself where she didn’t belong.
I watch the video again.
She doesn’t seem scared.
The caption updates:Looks like self-defense. She’s okay.
