For a long time, no one spoke.
The sound of the rain filled the room—steady, relentless, the kind of sound that erases everything else. Grace stood between her sister and her husband, feeling the strange stillness that comes when truth finally claws its way to the surface.
Mark's coat dripped onto the carpet. His tie hung loose, his face pale under the yellow light. He looked less like a husband and more like a man standing at the edge of a confession.
Mia folded her arms. "Go on, Mark. She deserves the story you sold me years ago."
Mark's jaw tightened. "That's enough."
Grace's voice was quiet, flat. "Let her talk."
Mia smiled—cold, sharp. "He came to me right after the wedding, Grace. Said he couldn't stop thinking about what happened that night, about you. He wanted to know what you remembered. When he realized you didn't remember anything, he smiled. Said maybe it was better that way."
Mark's eyes flicked to Grace. "It wasn't like that."
"Then how was it?" Grace asked. "Because right now it sounds like you built a marriage on pity."
Mark took a slow breath. "I married you because I thought I could fix it."
"Fix what?"
"The fire," he said. "Your guilt. Mia's anger. All of it." He rubbed his temples. "Daniel said if we controlled the narrative—if you believed it was her fault instead of yours—you'd be able to move on."
Grace stared at him, every muscle in her body tightening. "Controlled the narrative?"
"I wanted peace," Mark said. "For both of you."
Mia laughed under her breath. "Peace? You wanted silence. You thought if she forgot, I'd disappear too."
Mark turned toward her. "You threatened to destroy her."
"I wanted her to remember!" Mia's voice cracked. "Because she's the one who lit the match."
Grace shook her head. "No. I saw it. I saw you drop it."
Mia's eyes filled with something darker than anger. "Because you made me, Grace. You taunted me until I did. You said you wished the whole house would burn down so we could start over. I believed you."
The words hit like stones. Grace stepped back, the air thickening. "That's not true."
"Memory's funny," Mia said softly. "It keeps what it wants."
Mark moved closer, his hand outstretched. "Grace, stop—"
She recoiled. "Don't."
For the first time, Mark looked frightened. "Daniel wanted control. He said he could erase the guilt if we gave him access to your sessions. He promised me you'd never remember, that it would be like none of it ever happened."
"Why did you agree?"
"Because I loved you," he said, voice breaking. "Because I couldn't stand watching you break every time Mia's name came up."
Mia gave a bitter smile. "And I was the payment."
Grace turned to her sister. "Payment?"
Mia's voice softened. "He promised me closure. Said if I helped him keep you stable, he'd give me something I never had. A place. A voice."
Grace's chest ached. "And that turned into an affair."
Mia looked away. "He was lonely. So was I. We told ourselves it was revenge, but really—it was just two ghosts clinging to the same grave."
Silence fell again, heavy and suffocating. Grace felt every wall she'd built over the years begin to crack. "So all of this—my life, my marriage, my memories—was a lie to keep your secrets alive."
Mark stepped forward, pleading now. "I tried to make it right."
Grace's voice shook. "You had six years to try."
For a moment, she saw the man she once loved—the way he'd laughed, the way he'd said her name like it meant something. Now it sounded hollow.
"Leave," she said.
"Grace—"
"Go."
Mark hesitated, then finally obeyed. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving only the rain and the sisters.
Mia exhaled, her shoulders sagging. "He'll run to Daniel now. They'll try to spin another story."
Grace wiped at her eyes. "Not this time."
"What are you going to do?"
Grace looked out at the city below, the streets shining under the downpour. "I'm going to end it. Every lie, every record. If they built my life on ashes, then I'll burn what's left and start again."
Mia's gaze softened. "And me?"
Grace turned toward her. "You can help me—or you can stay his ghost. Your choice."
For the first time in years, Mia didn't have an answer. The firelight from a passing car caught her face, and for a heartbeat, she looked like the girl Grace had once pulled from the flames—hurt, scared, but still alive.
"Tomorrow," Grace said, heading for the door. "We finish this tomorrow."