Chapter 3

"Mia."

Dad tapped lightly on the wooden door. "I brought you some bread. Eat something, okay? Don't starve yourself."

I floated right in front of him, reaching out toward the bread.

"Dad, I'm right here. I died. Please, just open the door and look at me."

"Mia?" he called out again.

I reached out to touch his face, but my hand swept straight through his cheek.

"Sigh." Dad let out a disappointed breath, straightening up. "Still pouting, huh?"

He knelt back down and shoved the bread underneath the crack of the door.

"Just stay quiet in there and stop throwing tantrums. Once your sister is gone... I promise I'll make it up to you."

He never opened the door to check on me.

I watched his retreating back and whispered softly, "You don't have to, Dad. You don't ever have to make it up to me."

Because you will never get the chance.

After Dad left, the hallway fell dead silent again.

A moment later, light footsteps padded across the floorboards.

Mom came out of Chloe's room and stopped right where Dad had stood, directly outside the storage room.

"Mia," she murmured, her voice tight. "Don't hate me, okay?"

"I know you feel wronged," she went on, her nails absently picking at a splinter on the door frame. "But Chloe only has today left. Just let her have this. Let her go peacefully, can't you do that much?"

I drifted in front of her. Her eyelashes were damp. She quickly dabbed at her eyes, terrified of showing weakness.

"Once your sister is gone, I'll buy you that whole bakery cake you've always wanted. The entire thing, just for you," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"I'll buy you new dresses with all the sparkles you love. You wanted to go to the ski resort, right? You said everyone at school had been except you. I'll take you there. We'll ride the gondola together."

A tear slipped from her eye, soaking into the dry wood of the floor.

"Mom promises you all of it. Everything. So please, just for today... don't make a scene, okay?"

I reached out, wishing I could wipe her tear away.

She waited. Inside the storage room, there was only crushing silence.

The sorrow on Mom's face slowly twisted into cold irritation.

"Still giving me the silent treatment? Didn't you hear what I just promised you?"

"No, Mom, I'm not giving you the silent treatment," I wanted to scream, but she couldn't hear.

"You really are ungrateful," she muttered bitterly, tears choking her throat. "You never think about your parents for a single second. Raising you was completely pointless!"

She spun around and stomped off, her posture stiff and tense.

Dusk fell, painting the sky in deep shades of purple and gray.

Just as Mom walked back into the living room, the doorbell rang.

It was Grandma. My eyes lit up. Every time Grandma visited, she brought me presents—even if Mom usually ended up handing them over to Chloe.

Grandma was the only person who actually remembered the things I liked.

She walked in carrying a bulging canvas tote bag. Seeing Mom, she managed a faint, sorrowful smile.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Mom asked, surprised, quickly stepping aside to let her in.

"I came to see Chloe," Grandma said, her voice raspy. She set the tote bag on the dining table, pulling out crisp red apples and a box of pastries. "Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I... I had to see her."

"Chloe is resting in her room," Mom said, taking the groceries from her. "Have a seat, I'll go get her."

"No, don't wake her. Let her rest." Grandma sat down on the sofa, glancing around the empty living room. Her eyebrows knit together. "Where's Mia? Why haven't I seen Mia?"