Rose’s POV

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the silence. I stare at the ceiling, waiting.

For the sound of the blender.

For Lily’s footsteps.

For her voice calling from the kitchen, probably complaining that I’m still in bed while she’s already making her healthy smoothie.

Nothing.

My eyes close.

For a few seconds, I let myself pretend.

Maybe I’m still dreaming.

Maybe if I get up, I will find Lily in the kitchen, standing beside the blender with that look she always gives me whenever I tell her that her smoothies taste like grass.

Then the memory comes back.

The hospital.

Her lifeless body beneath the white sheets.

Waiting for her to laugh and tell me it was all some terrible joke.

She never did.

My throat tightens.

I turn my face toward the window, refusing to let the tears fall.

Lily is dead.

I know that.

But knowing something and accepting it are two completely different things.

Her clothes were still hanging in the closet. Her side of the bathroom still has the little bottles of skincare she was always buying. Her bedroom door remains closed because I have not been able to bring myself to open it.

I do not know what I would do if I walk inside and everything looked exactly the way she left it.

So I avoid it.

I get out of bed and dress for the studio, as I walk past Lily’s room, my steps slow.

I stare at it.

I remember how she begged me to move in with her.

“Please, Rose. Living alone is boring.”

At the time, I wanted to experience living alone. I wanted my own space.

She had laughed and called me boring.

Now I would give anything to hear her say it again.

I force myself to keep walking.

I finally got what I wanted.

I just did not know it would feel like this

The studio has become my escape. For the past few months, I have spent more time here than anywhere else.

I pick up my brush and turn my attention back to the canvas in front of me.

Painting has always been easier than talking.

When I cannot find the right words, when my thoughts become too loud, I put them on a canvas instead.

Today, I work on a portrait, carefully layering the shades across the face. I step back and study it.

This is the one place where I still feel like myself

I dip my brush into the paint and carefully add another stroke.

For a moment, I almost forget everything.

Almost.

My phone begins to ring.

I sigh and wipe my paint covered fingers on my apron before reaching for it.

Mum.

I answer.

“Hello, mum.”

“Rose Madeline smith.” She says her voice sounding strict and firm.

I wince.

I always know I’m in big trouble when she uses my full name.

“ I cannot believe you have not come home in a month now.” She says her voice strict. “And do not give me excuses about how busy you are.”

Guilt immediately settles on my chest.

“ I know, mum. I’m really sorry about that. I will make it up to you by coming for dinner this weekend.”

“You better be here this evening or else I’m coming to drag you here if I have to.” I smile, I know she would.

“ but I’m re..”

“I do not want to hear it, you are coming and that is final.” She says cutting me off.

I sigh.

“fine.”

I turn back towards my painting.

“That’s my girl.” She says. “And your father has something to say to you.”

“What is that?” There is a long pause.

“Mum?”. Another pause

My stomach tightens

“Is dad okay?”

“of course he is. Just come home and hear what he has to say.” Her voice has changed.

it sounds shaky.

“okay.” I end the call, but the uneasy feeling remains. I sit back and stare at the painting.

I try to continue.

one stroke.

Then another. But my mind is not cooperating.

What could Dad possibly want to tell me?

I finally set the brush down.

“Forget it.”

I take off my apron, grab my things, and leave.

As I drive home, i cannot help but admire the city around me, I watch the familiar streets of Boston pass by my window. The city was busy as usual, but somehow I found comfort in it.

I love Boston.

I finally reach my parent’s house, I stay in the car for a moment.

I stare at the house through the windshield.

So many memories live here.

Lily and I used to run around this place like we owned it.

We climbed trees, got into trouble, and once convinced Dad to help us build a treehouse.

Well…

We built a treehouse.

Dad did most of the actual work.

I smile at the memory before the smile slowly fades.

The front door opens.

Mum steps outside and waves at me.

I smile back and get out of the car.

The moment I reach her, she pulls me into a hug

I wrap my arms around her and breathe in her familiar scent.

Vanilla.

I do not know why, but that tiny detail makes my chest ache.

“I missed you so much.” She says as she pulls away.

Her eyes are already filled with tears.

“I missed you too.” I reply while trying to smile back at her.

For a second, I wonder if she sees Lily when she looks at me.

Maybe that is why neither of us says anything.

“Let’s go inside, you must be tired.” She says softly.

We both walked inside together.

A few seconds later, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

“is that Rose?”. Dad’s voice is filled with excitement. He comes rushing towards me and pulls me into a hug.

“ I get that you guys miss me, but we literally saw each other last week at the gallery event.”

He pulls away and rolls his eye.

“Ohh shut up that is nothing compared to seeing you at home.”

I laugh.

It feels good.

For the first time today, the sound does not feel forced.

Dad’s expression changes when he looks at me again

“How are you doing.” His voice is quieter now.

More serious.

He studies my face for a moment.

“I’m okay dad.” I pause.

“Actually, I should be the one asking how are you doing. Mum said you had something to tell me.”

Something flickers across his face.

Just for a second.

He exchanges a look with mum.

Then he says, “let’s have dinner first”.

I stare at both of them.

“Okay…”

I follow them into the dining room, but something about the atmosphere feels different. Usually, dinner with my parents is filled with random conversations, teasing and Mum asking me if I’m eating enough.

I take my usual seat beside my mum while my dad sits across from me. My mum begins serving the food, acting as though everything is perfectly normal.

I watch them for a moment.

“Okay.” I say breaking the silence.

Both of them look at me. “You two are definitely hiding something.”

My mum pauses , her hand hovering over my plate.

“We are not hiding anything.” she says too quickly.

I raise an eyebrow. “Mum.”

She glances at my dad, and he lets out a quiet sigh.

“Rose, just eat first.” he says.

I lean back in my chair. “You both are terrible at pretending nothing is wrong.”

Dad gives me a small smile, but it does not reach his eyes.

“We will tell you after dinner.”

I want to argue.

Instead, I pick up my fork and try to focus on the eating my food.

But I cannot.

Something was wrong.

Dad looks at Mum again, and this time I catch the worry in his eyes.

“Rose,” he finally says, his voice unusually serious, “there is something you need to know.”

I look up.

“It concerns the Blackwoods.”