Leah
The moment I told Lena that Dad wanted her to come home with us, I saw it.
Fear.
Not the ordinary nerves someone felt when meeting a stranger.
Not the awkward uncertainty of being invited into someone else’s home.
This was something entirely different.
It was raw.
Instinctive.
Terrifying.
The moment she heard that my father wanted to meet her, the colour seemed to drain from her face. Then she bolted for the bedroom and started dragging her suitcases from the closet as though she needed to escape before someone could stop her.
Watching her panic made me feel like I’d been punched straight in the stomach.
Because this wasn’t some dangerous rogue we’d been warned about.
This was Lena.
Our Lena.
The girl who cooked for us without being asked.
The girl who threw our dirty c
