“So,” she says, “His Majesty the madonna returns.” She means the hospital visit, not with concern, but with accusation. As if Lidia taking one afternoon to see her twin was a luxury stolen from more deserving people.
You lower your eyes the way Lidia would.
That costs you something. Everything in you wants to look directly at her until she remembers every ugly word she ever used against your sister and hears it back in the shape of your silence. But not yet. Monsters grow careless when they believe they are still looking at prey.
“Sofi needs dinner,” you say softly.
Teresa snorts.
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