Aurora's POV
"Which one am I?" The words leave my mouth before I decide to say them.
Sebastian does not answer; he cannot. I am staring at the photograph like it might change if I look long enough. Two infants. Two bracelets. Two letters that mean nothing and everything at the same time.
A.
B.
One saved. One lost.
My mother's handwriting on the back is steady. Too steady for a woman writing about the worst choice of her life.
Forgive me. I could only save one. I flip the photo over again. The infants look the same. Small. Soft. Impossible to tell apart in the grainy hospital light. Which one lived? Which one was hidden? Which one am I?
"Aurora."
Sebastian's voice pulls me back.
I look up.
His face is difficult to read in the dark. Not blank. Just be careful. Like he knows whatev
