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Summary
“You’re home,” Father said then, a strangely hopeful tinge to his tone curdling in Helly’s stomach.
Helly chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her eyes were fixed on the crumbling rose petal just grazing the base of her wine glass. “Helena invited me.”
“It’s been a long time.” His lips were red, or maybe his pallor was so extreme they seemed chapped against it. “Eight years.”
“I know.”
(Helly is called home and finds everything almost exactly the same)
