She shifts her gaze to me, her whiskey eyes glinting in the soft light of the candles.
“It’s not what it seems to be,” she says.
“So what was so bad about it that it made you leave it all behind and go dumpster diving?”
Her face blanches, her eyes turning dull.
“I shouldn’t have asked you,” I say, quickly backing off.
“No... No. It wasn’t only one thing,” she says.
I flick my eyes at her while running a napkin over my lips. She looks at me, conflicted.
“Why can’t you tell me?” I ask.
“It’s not that easy...”
She sets the fork on the plate, breaking eye contact before raising her gaze back to me.
“You never told me about Sara and Emma...” she says.
I lean back against the couch.
“What would you like to know?”
“Who are they?”
“Who do you think they are?”
“They’re your family...” she says.
I give her a soft nod.
“I’m not sure about Sara... but Emma...”
She pauses as her voice gets shaky and her eyes get washed with tears.
“She looks exactly like you...” she says.
She averts her eyes, uselessly trying to hide her emotions.
“Is she your daughter?” she asks, flicking her gaze back at me.
Clashing thoughts roll over her face, mixed emotions flitting through her eyes. There’s hope, and a secret longing, a part of her hidden soul shining through. All bring so much beauty to her face.
I smile as I slowly shake my head.
“Sara is my sister, and Emma is my niece,” I say softly.
Her expression changes instantly.
She looks at me as if this piece of information has changed her entire life. Her eyes widen in surprise while her hand slides to her mouth.
“Oh, my God...” she murmurs, her eyes twinkling with a smile. “She looks just like you,” she says, washed with disbelief.
I nod.
“Yes. Emma and I look alike. And we both look like my mother.”