Grandpa’s voice cracked.
“And I hated myself for not warning you.”
I stood.
“But you still didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you were pregnant, abandoned, frightened—”
“So you decided I couldn’t handle the truth.”
He flinched.
I turned away.
Already, something deeper than Julian’s disappearance was beginning to hurt.
I had spent my entire life believing certain memories were missing simply because I had been young.
Now I understood that the people who loved me had deliberately left pieces out.
And I suddenly needed to know how many.
Part 4 — The Cedar Box
That night, Ivy slept in the crib Grandpa had made while I sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor.
In front of me was the cedar box that had belonged to my mother.
I had carried it through three apartments.
