We went home in silence. The house still smelled of lemon polish and perfection. I didn't protest on the walk from the hospital; the doctor's last words kept echoing: she was stable, but the next steps were urgent.
A portrait over the mantel showed me half a step behind everyone, smiling the old obedient smile.
“Sit," she said.
I didn't. I stayed near the door, bag on my shoulder like a shield. “I'm going home after we talk."
“We are home," Lily answered. “Where sense still applies." She turned to Owen. “Tea."
He moved toward the kitchen, composed. I wondered if he remembered the stairwell and how secrets ruin keepers.
Lily faced me. “Your sister needs you. We'll schedule the bone marrow harvest soon."
The phrasing chose certainty over permission. “My body is not your calendar," I s
