Vanessa still knocked exactly the same way.
Three quick taps.
A pause.
Then one more.
I knew that rhythm before I even looked through the glass.
My hands froze around the bowl of popcorn.
On the couch, Sophie paused the movie.
Clara looked at me first.
Lily looked toward the front door.
Being triplets had never made them identical where it mattered.
They shared the same birthday.
The same dark eyes.
The same childhood bedroom for years.
But each one carried emotion differently.
The knock came again.
“I’ll get it,” Sophie said.
“No.”
I put the popcorn down.
“I’ll get it.”
I walked slowly through the living room of our house on Willowcrest Lane.
Then opened the door.
Vanessa stood on the porch.
Cream-colored coat.
Perfect hair.
Polished suitcase beside her.
For several seconds, neither of us said anything.
Then she smiled.
“Eleanor.”
Not hello.
Not I’m sorry.
