After a week of observation, Aunt Elaine delivered her verdict.
She cornered me in the library. Not the living room. Not in front of everyone. Just the two of us. The secret rainbow bookshelf glowed behind her, the only splash of color in the entire penthouse. Red spines flowing into orange flowing into yellow. My grandmother had told me once that the old Vivian organized this shelf herself. A tiny rebellion against the black and white of her life.
Elaine had chosen this room deliberately. I could tell by the way she stood. The way her sharp eyes swept over the shelves before settling on me. She was not here to admire the books. She was here to say something important.
"Sit," she said.
I sat on the velvet chaise lounge. The same one I had collapsed onto during my desperate quest for water at 2 AM. It felt like a lifetime ago. I had been so lost then. So empty. So completely unaware of who I was or what I was becoming.
