6 YEARS AFTER ONE OF MY TWINS D:IED, MY DAUGHTER CAME HOME FROM HER FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL AND SAID: “PACK ONE MORE LUNCHBOX FOR MY SISTER.”

“For who?” I asked, only half paying attention while I unpacked groceries.

“For my sister.”

I laughed, nervous in a way I didn’t fully understand yet.

“You don’t have a sister at school, sweetheart.”

Wren frowned at me like I was the one being unreasonable.

“Yes, I do. She sits beside me. Her name is Lizzy.”

My blood ran cold instantly.

I had never once told Wren that name. Not Elisa, not any shortened version of it, not in six years of carefully avoiding the subject entirely.