Elena’s POV

The question still hung in the air between us, soft enough that it almost did not sound like a question at all.

“Do you remember?”

I sat on the edge of the narrow childhood bed, the mattress giving slightly beneath my weight, the carefully smoothed blanket cool under my palms. The sunlight that had been so clean and ordinary only minutes ago now felt too bright, too revealing. It moved across the floorboards in a slow rectangle, touching the edge of Mr. Nik’s shoe, the place where the photograph had rested before he turned it face-down in his hand. Dust motes drifted in the light. Somewhere downstairs a...