story seem almost impossible not to believe.
“I think she wanted me herself.”
“What?”
“She’d always been jealous of us.”
“No. Helen married your friend.”
“Eventually.”
I stared at him.
“Do you have her letters?”
His expression shifted.
“I burned them.”
“You burned them?”
“I couldn’t keep reading the words that stole you from me.”
It sounded heartbreaking.
At the time, I thought it was.
Helen called that evening.
I declined the call.
She called again.
I turned off my phone.
The next morning, she came to my door.
“Sis?
