ROMAN
"It was from my favorite shirt," Vanessa said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I tore it that day in the woods."
My world shifted beneath my feet. Not a gentle tilt but a violent, earth-shattering quake. I stared at the piece of fabric in my trembling hand—pink with tiny blue flowers, faded with time and blood.
"Seraphina was wearing pink that day too," I said, the words feeling hollow as they left my mouth.
Memories crashed through me like waves against a breaking dam. Seraphina arriving after I'd already been bandaged. Her shirt intact. The bow she carried but never used again after that day. And suddenly, a forgotten image—a photograph of young Vanessa with that same bow.
"She took credit for finding me first." My voice sounded distant to my own ears. "All these years..."
Vanessa stood before me, gray-blue eyes holding mine steadily. "Yes."
One simple word. One devastating truth.
