Our triplet sister died when we were eleven—until a box arrived on our 21st birthday that revealed she might not have been gone at all.

but I know you. You hide when you are hurt because you think it makes you easier to love. Please do not do that forever. People who love you should know where it hurts.”

I pressed the letter to my chest.

“She knew me,” I whispered.

Mom’s face crumpled.
“She loved you so much.”

Leila opened her bundle next.

Her hands shook so badly that I reached over and continue reading …