But she’s your sister.
And every time, I remembered Mia’s school calling. I remembered strangers attacking me online. I remembered how quickly April was willing to drag a child into her war.
Then the guilt disappeared again.
One night I opened the old folder of screenshots and evidence.
For a long time, those files had felt like insurance.
Now they just felt heavy.
Tired.
Finished.
So I deleted the whole folder.
Because I didn’t want my peace to depend on being ready for her next attack.
I wanted peace that could stand on its own.
A few days later, I received a letter from April.
She said she didn’t expect forgiveness.
She admitted she had used me because I stayed. She said she had mistaken my stability for judgment. She wrote one sentence that stayed with me:
