Ethan stared at Camille.
For a moment, he honestly thought he had heard her wrong.
“My mom didn’t have a sister.”
Camille wiped her face.
“She did.”
Ethan looked at Lila.
Then back at Camille.
“So she was your aunt?”
Lila nodded slowly.
Ethan took a step backward.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“My mom told me she was an only child.”
Camille lowered her eyes.
“That’s what she wanted you to believe.”
Ethan looked down at the letter.
The handwriting was still unmistakably his mother’s.
His fingers tightened around the page.
“Why?”
Camille sat on the bench beside them.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered:
“Because we stopped being sisters a long time ago.”
Ethan stayed standing.
“What happened?”
Camille looked toward the hospital windows.
“We were close when we were young.”
She smiled faintly.
“Rebecca was the brave one.”
Ethan almost smiled.
“That sounds like her.”
“She spoke first. Fought first. Forgave first.”
Camille paused.
“Until our father died.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“My grandfather?”
Camille nodded.
“There was an argument about his house.”
Ethan frowned.
“Money?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
Camille looked at him.
“His last months.”
She continued quietly.
“Rebecca wanted him at home.”
“I wanted him in hospice.”
Neither choice sounded cruel.
That somehow made the story hurt more.
“We were both scared,” Camille said.
“And instead of admitting that, we blamed each other.”
Ethan looked down.
“For how long?”
“Seventeen years.”
Lila stared at her mother.
“You never told me this.”
Camille looked at her.
“I wasn’t proud of it.”
Ethan looked at the letter again.
“But Mom knew about Lila.”
Camille nodded.
“How?”
“I called her.”
Ethan froze.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Lila looked surprised too.
“You called Aunt Rebecca?”
Camille nodded.
“When your heart started failing.”
Lila’s eyes filled.
“What did you say?”
Camille gave a small, painful smile.
“I said I didn’t know who else to call.”
Ethan sat down slowly.
“And Mom answered?”
“On the first ring.”
That sounded exactly like Rebecca.
Camille continued.
“I expected her to hang up.”
“She didn’t.”
“No.”
Camille looked toward Ethan.
“She asked one question.”
“What?”
“‘What does Lila need?’”
Ethan’s face softened.
Camille’s voice began to shake.
“I told her there wasn’t anything she could do.”
“She said, ‘Then let me do the things I can.’”
Lila wiped her eyes.
“What things?”
Camille looked at her daughter.
“She started paying for the apartment near the hospital.”
Lila froze.
“What?”
“The pharmacy bills insurance didn’t cover.”
Camille smiled through tears.
“And the food deliveries you thought came from the hospital charity.”
Lila covered her mouth.
“That was her?”
“Yes.”
Ethan looked stunned.
“She never told me.”
Camille looked at him.
“She made me promise not to.”
“Why?”
“Because she didn’t want you to think she was choosing another family over you.”
Ethan’s expression broke.
“She was helping her family.”
Camille nodded.
“But by then, we didn’t know how to call ourselves that anymore.”
For a while, no one spoke.
Then Ethan looked down at his mother’s letter.
“What did she mean when she said she kept her promise?”
Camille’s face changed.
She reached into her bag.
From inside, she pulled out another envelope.
Older than Ethan’s.
The edges were worn from being handled too many times.
Rebecca’s name was written across the front.
Camille handed it to him.
“This was from our mother.”
Ethan opened it.
Inside was a short handwritten note.
He read silently.
Then his eyes filled.
Girls, whatever happens after I’m gone, promise me neither of you will ever let the other face something terrible alone.
Ethan stopped.
Camille whispered:
“We both broke that promise.”
Lila shook her head.
“Aunt Rebecca didn’t.”
Camille looked at her daughter.
“No.”
Her tears returned.
“In the end, she didn’t.”
Ethan stared at the hospital bracelet around his wrist.
Then at Lila.
“My mom knew she was an organ donor.”
Camille nodded.
“She told me years ago.”
“But she couldn’t know Lila would get her heart.”
“No.”
Camille shook her head.
“She couldn’t.”
“She only asked the coordinator that if directed donation was medically possible, Lila should be considered.”
Lila stared at her mother.
“You knew?”
“Not until after the transplant.”
Camille looked at Ethan.
“Rebecca never wanted you pressured into anything.”
Ethan lowered his head.
“That sounds like her too.”
Lila moved closer.
For the first time, she reached for Ethan’s hand.
He let her.
Two cousins meeting because one had lost a mother and the other had been given another chance to live.
Neither knew what to say.
So Lila said the simplest thing.
“I’m sorry she died.”
Ethan looked at her.
“And I’m glad you didn’t.”
Lila began crying.
So did Camille.
Then Ethan remembered the music box.
He opened it again.
The tiny melody filled the atrium.
Lila put one hand over her chest.
“My heart does something weird when I hear that.”
Ethan smiled faintly.
“What?”
“It beats faster.”
He laughed through his tears.
“My mom loved that song.”
Lila smiled.
“Maybe it remembers.”
Camille covered her mouth.
Ethan looked at Lila for a long moment.
Then held the stethoscope out again.
“Can I?”
She nodded.
He listened.
Thump. Thump.
This time Ethan smiled before he cried.
Then Camille’s phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Her expression changed.
Lila noticed.
“Mom?”
Camille didn’t answer.
Ethan removed the stethoscope.
“What happened?”
Camille stared at the caller ID.
It read:
TRANSPLANT COORDINATOR.
She answered.
“Hello?”
She listened.
Then slowly sat down.
“What is it?” Lila asked.
Camille covered her mouth.
The coordinator spoke for almost a minute.
When the call ended, Camille looked at Ethan.
“There was another recipient.”
Ethan frowned.
“Another recipient from Mom?”
Camille nodded.
“Her corneas.”
Ethan looked confused.
Camille’s voice shook.
“They were transplanted into a woman who had been blind for eleven years.”
Lila smiled through her tears.
“That’s amazing.”
But Camille wasn’t smiling.
Ethan noticed.
“What?”
Camille looked at the letter in his hand.
“The woman just asked to meet you.”
Ethan’s eyes widened.
“Why?”
Camille swallowed.
“Because she knew your mother.”
Ethan froze.
“How?”
Camille whispered:
“She says Rebecca was the last person she saw before she went blind.”
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