EMILY
The little restaurant looked like it didn’t belong here, tucked between a pawn shop and a boarded-up bodega, the paint chipping around the windows. It was unassuming, almost invisible. It looked like the kind of place you’d walk past without a second glance. But I couldn’t stop staring.
My hand was shaking and I told myself it was just nerves, but the truth was heavier than that.
I could still hear Elijah’s voice from this morning. “We can leave tonight. If you don’t want to do this you don’t have to. You don’t have to know.”
But I did have to know. About my parents. About myself. About why people kept things from me like their lives depended on it. So I stepped forward.
The air inside was warm, with the scent of garlic and grilled meat mingling in the air. There were only two c
