I thought my father’s will would secure my future. Then the lawyer read a name I didn’t recognize. My grandmother’s fury was immediate.
Who was Brenna, and why did my father leave her everything? And what secret was behind it? My life used to always be governed by rules.
Every morning, a strict voice echoed through the house. “Sit up straight, Mona. Don’t slouch.
A lady always keeps her composure.”
That was Loretta—my grandmother, my guardian, my shadow. After my mother died, she took over, raising me in her grand image. Everything had to be perfect.
My grades, my posture, and even the way I folded napkins. It was exhausting, but I tried. I always tried.
When my father passed away, Loretta quickly turned her focus to what mattered most to her. Control. But I remember the day my life changed.
We were sitting in the lawyer’s office. “You’ll invest the money wisely, Mona,” she had said that morning, already outlining how we would rebuild the family’s legacy. “Your father worked hard for this.”
I believed her.
For years, Loretta’s confidence had been unshakable, her plans infallible. So, as we sat in that cold office with its stale coffee, I felt sure of my future. “As per your father’s wishes,” he lawyer, glancing at the will, “his estate and money will go to Brenna.”
“Who!?” The word escaped my lips before I could stop it.
The lawyer paused. “Brenna is your father’s other daughter.”
“Sister? I… I have a sister?”
“Impossible!” Loretta’s sharp voice ricocheted off the walls.
“This must be a mistake! My son couldn’t leave everything to some stranger!”
“It’s no mistake, ma’am,” the lawyer said. “Your son provided clear instructions.
Brenna inherits the house, accounts, and stocks.”
“What?” Loretta’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. “You’re telling me that child, someone we don’t even know, takes it all?”
I barely heard them. A sister.
A sister I never knew existed. Loretta’s hand gripped mine, pulling me back. “We’ll fix this, Mona.
We’ll find this Brenna and make sure she does what’s right.”
Her words felt suffocating, but I nodded. Defying Loretta had never been an option. ***
In a few days, I arrived at Brenna’s house due to Grandma’s instructions.
The small house leaned slightly to one side, its peeling paint flaking like sunburned skin. The front door creaked open before I even knocked, and Brenna stood there, smiling wide. Her arms hung loosely at her sides, her fingers twisting together in a rhythm that seemed more instinct than thought.
“Hi!” she said, her voice bright, almost musical. “I saw you coming. Did you park by the mailbox?
It’s wobbly. I keep meaning to fix it, but…”
She trailed off, her eyes darting to the corner of the doorframe. She tapped it three times with her knuckles.
“Uh, yeah,” I replied awkwardly. “I’m Mona. Your sister.”
“Come in!” she interrupted, stepping aside but not making eye contact.
“Watch the floorboard near the kitchen. It squeaks.”
Inside, the house smelled faintly of clay and earth. The narrow hallway opened into a kitchen dominated by a long workbench covered in half-finished pottery pieces, jars of paint, and tools I didn’t recognize.
Brenna rearranged a set of mismatched vases on the windowsill three times, muttering under her breath before nodding in satisfaction. Then she turned back to me, her smile returning as if nothing had happened. “You’re my sister.”
“Yes,” I said slowly, unsure how to navigate her openness.
“Our father… He passed away recently.”
Her smile didn’t falter. “What’s it like? Having a dad?”
“It’s… hard to say.
He was kind. He cared. We were friends.”
She nodded, her fingers twitching against her thighs.
“I never met him. But I have his hands.” She held up her palms, showing faint traces of clay. “Mom always said so.
Big hands, like him.”
Her sincerity was disarming. I’d expected resentment or at least suspicion, but instead, she radiated a quiet acceptance. “Dad left me a gift,” Brenna said.
“A gift?” I repeated. “That’s… nice.”
“Yes. He called it that.
In the letter from the lawyer. Did he leave you a gift too?”
I hesitated, Loretta’s biting words ringing in my ears. “Not really.
He didn’t…”
“That’s strange. Everyone should get a gift.”
I smiled. “Maybe.”
“You should stay for a week,” Brenna said smiling.
“You can tell me about him. What he was like. What he liked to eat.
What his voice sounded like.”
“A week?” I asked, startled. “I don’t know if…”
“In return,” she interrupted, “I’ll share the gift. It’s only fair.” Her hands were twisting together as she waited for my response.
“I don’t know if I have much to say about him,” I said, though even as the words left my mouth, I felt the pang of their untruth. “But… okay. A week.”
Her face lit up.
“Good. We can have pancakes. Only if you like them, though.”
She turned back to her workbench, humming softly.
I knew what her so-called “gift” was. At that moment, Loretta’s plan seemed simple. Too simple.
But Brenna’s kindness was already complicating everything. ***
That week at Brenna’s house, I felt like stepping into a parallel universe, one where the world spun slower and expectations melted away. Everything about her life was so unlike mine.
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