CHAPTER 26: OLIVE’S POV
My father's wife.
I shouldn't have clicked on them. I knew better. But my thumb moved on its own, opening the app and navigating to the burner account I'd created six months ago just to keep tabs on them. On the life my father had built without me.
The first photo was of my half-siblings—twins, four years old, matching pumpkin-themed outfits. They were at some fancy pumpkin patch, surrounded by hay bales and cornstalks, their faces lit up with the kind of pure, uncomplicated joy I barely remembered feeling as a kid.
The second photo was of my father. He was crouched down between the twins, his arms around them, smiling wider than I'd ever seen him smile. Not the tight, forced smile he'd given me during the few visits he'd bothered to show up for after the divorc
