Something transpired between us when our eyes met on the day of Nuncio’s funeral. What I saw in her piercing stare—her knowledge of me and understanding—that… shook me to my core. As if I’ve been struck by lightning. Something changed at that moment. A huge, fundamental shift in me, like an electric current switching its direction after a sudden surge, heading where it was never meant to be. Set on a very worrisome, forbidden course. Instead of plotting a new way to reach my lifelong goal, every waking second for over three years, I’ve spent thinking about her. My stepsister.
Days became a battle for survival, not for my life but for my peace of mind, filled with endless waiting. For the time I’d see a CO carrying that envelope to me. I would then f*****g inhale every single word she wrot
