Everything inside me fell into a new shape. I’d braced for her to be the one who’d throw gasoline on the last embers; instead she looked like someone who’d set a fire and was now trying to learn how to extinguish it. Her hands were steady, and there was an earnestness in her that had nothing performative in it.
“Why are you really here?” Mark asked gently.
“To help,” Lily said, louder this time, anchored. “Because I’m tired of watching you two flail. Because I miss you, Anna. Because if I have to be the villain forever, I want to be the villain who actually does something useful.” Her sarcasm barely masked the tremor in her voice. She swallowed and added, quieter: “And because Mom—she’s fragile. She panicked, broke down. I wish I hadn’t run my mouth, but I can be better. I can help pack.
