Chapter 9 - Mended Threads
Thursday evening brought an unexpected knock on my bedroom door just as I was finishing up my math homework. I looked up from my desk, expecting to see Chloe or maybe Dad coming in to check on dinner plans.
Instead, the door pushed open slowly, revealing Ava.
She looked smaller than usual, her hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, wearing an oversized gray sweatshirt and jeans. She wasn't holding cat ears, and she wasn't wearing my dress. She was holding a small, crumpled envelope in her hands, twisting the corners nervously between her thumbs.
I didn't say anything. I simply sat back in my chair, keeping my guard up, waiting to see what this visit was about.
Ava cleared her throat, staring intently at the floorboards near my desk before finally forcing herself to look up and meet my eyes.
“I... I wanted to give you this,” she mumbled, holding out the envelope.
I reached out cautiously and took it from her hands. Inside was a neatly folded piece of lined notebook paper, written in Ava’s characteristic handwriting.
*Lily,*
*I know saying sorry doesn't fix what I did on Saturday. I shouldn't have asked for your costume, and I shouldn't have worn it when you said no. Mom let me get away with it because she always wants things to be easy for me, but I knew it was yours. I watched you save up for it, and I was just jealous because I didn't want to look plain at the party. I'm really sorry. I gave the dress back, and I'm not going to take your things anymore.*
*- Ava*
I stared at the paper for a long time, reading the words twice to let them sink in. The apology wasn't forced by Dad; the awkward, hesitant tone of the handwriting made it clear she had written it on her own accord.
“Thank you, Ava,” I said quietly, setting the letter down beside my blue savings ledger.
Ava shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking immensely relieved just to have the confession out in the open. “Mom is still mad at everyone,” she added in a half-whisper. “She says the neighborhood is judging us. But... Dad told her she needs to get over it.”
“Your mom made her own bed,” I replied honestly, though without cruelty. “And so did you. But accepting it is a good first step.”
Ava gave a small, solemn nod. She turned toward the door, paused with her hand on the knob, and looked back over her shoulder. “Do you... do you still want to use my silver nail polish sometime? For real, I mean. Not to borrow your clothes, just... if you want.”
A genuine smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I looked at the purple witch dress hanging safely in my closet, then back at my stepsister.
May you like
“Maybe,” I said. “We’ll see.”
***
