Sara Ikari Rodriguez
It was well past midnight when I found him still awake — sitting on the balcony, staring into the dark like it might give him answers.
The air was crisp, the city below half-asleep.
He didn't hear me come out.
Or maybe he did, and just didn't want to scare me.
I stood in the doorway for a moment before I spoke.
"I wasn't going to tell you," I said quietly.
He didn't move.
"I didn't think it mattered anymore."
His voice was low. "It mattered the moment I saw how you flinch when someone says her name."
I sat across from him, pulling my knees up to my chest.
"I was nineteen," I said. "Still living under my father's roof. Hannah was already... shining. The favorite. The heir. The one who
never made mistakes."
He didn't interrupt. Just listened.
"And I was tr
