Page 31 of Broken Secrets
“Besides,” she continues, “you deserve to know where you come from. Both sides of where you come from.”
“Maybe.”
At home my mom’s made her famous chicken parmesan, the kind that requires three different coatings and way too much cheese but tastes like comfort food should. Robert’s telling us about his latest project at work, something involving municipal water systems that’s probably fascinating if you’re into civil engineering.
“How was soccer practice?” she asks, passing me the salad bowl.
“Good. I scored during corner kick drills, and Coach seems less worried about me collapsing on the field.”
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”
“Any word on when your next cardiology appointment is?” Robert asks.
“Dr. Kasey wants to see me in six months for a follow-up. Just to make sure everything’s stable.”
“That’s good. Routine monitoring is always reassuring.”
I stand up, wiping my mouth and placing my dishes in the sink. “I’m going up to shower,” I announce after helping clear the dishes. “Got a bunch of homework to tackle.”
“Don’t stay up too late,”
“I won’t.”
My room smells like the lavender fabric spray she uses on my bedding, and there’s a stack of clean laundry folded neatly on my desk chair. I grab my favorite pajamas and a towel from the closet, already looking forward to a hot shower. My phone sits on my nightstand, face down where I left it before dinner. As I reach for my shower caddy, it lights up with a notification.
Instagram message.
Probably Maya sending me something funny, or maybe Derek sharing a post about this weekend’s plans. I almost ignore it, focused on getting to the shower while there’s still hot water left.
But something makes me pick up the phone.
The notification preview makes my heart stop.
Message from emmakline.17: Hi, I guess we are sisters.
My hands shake as I stare at the screen. Emma Kline. My half sister. How did she find me? She knows about me?
I sink onto my bed, phone clutched in my trembling hands. The towel and pajamas fall forgotten to the floor as I process what just happened. Emma knows about me. She knows we’re sisters. And she took the initiative to contact me directly.
My mind races with questions. How long has she known about me? What did Jeremy tell her? Does she hate me for being the product of his betrayal, or is she curious like I am? What does she want from this conversation?
I stare at her profile picture, the same face I’ve been studying on Jeremy’s website, but closer now, more real. She has his eyes,our eyes, and something in her expression reminds me of my own reflection.
My sister. My actual sister.
I set my phone back down and take a deep breath, letting it go and heading to my shower.
CHAPTER NINE
Emma’s wordsblur as I stare at them, my phone screen lighting up my dark room. Five simple words that flip my entire world upside down. Emma found me. Emma knows about me. Emma actually reached out first.
My hands shake as I tap on her profile picture to see it larger. There she is, my half sister, looking so much like me it’s unsettling.
I scroll through her Instagram before I lose my nerve to respond. Emma in a cheerleading uniform, pom-poms raised in victory after what looks like a competition. Emma at what looks like a homecoming dance, stunning in a navy blue dress. Emma with friends at lunch, laughing at something off-camera. Emma with Jeremy and Lilly at what appears to be a family barbecue, all three of them grinning at the camera like they don’t have a care in the world.
Normal family photos. The kind I’ve never had.
But what strikes me most is how happy she looks in every single picture. Not posed-for-social-media happy, but genuinely content. Like she’s never spent a single moment wondering where she came from or why half her family history is a blank space.
