“Look at me,” she pleads. Hot tears scald, sliding slowly down my cheeks in fiery lines. I can’t meet her gaze. “You cannot get rid of me, Lily. Nothing you do or say will make me leave. If you don’t tell me now, then I’ll hear of it in a year…” “Stop,” I cry. “…three years, five years, a decade. I’ll wait for you to tell me.” She’s crying—a girl who never cries, who squirms at the sight of tears and a wailing baby. “I love you. You’re my sister. That will never change.” She squeezes my hands. “Okay?”
