Ink Between Us

Heavy silence

The morning in LA was as clear as usual, with sunlight streaming through the kitchen windows and reflecting off the white marble countertop. Birds were singing nonstop, while Sierra stood there, absentmindedly stirring a bowl of cereal that had already gone soggy. 

Her mother walked into the kitchen and joined for breakfast. She carried a mug of coffee and looked at Sierra with concern.

"You haven't been eating well," she remarked, more of an observation than a scolding.

"I'm not hungry," Sierra replied automatically, without glancing at her mother. Her words carried a hollowness that masked the storm of emotions within her.

Her mother stepped closer, placing the mug gently on the counter. For a moment, she watched Sierra silently and noticed all the exhaustion and restlessness on her daughter's face.

"My love," she began, her voice both soft and firm, as she tucked a strand of Sierra's hair behind her ear. "I know you're trying to find answers... and I deeply understand. But sometimes, what we need most isn't answers—it's time. It's hard to accept that some things remain unfinished, but your father always believed that life went on, even when it felt stuck."

Sierra looked up at her mother, a mix of surprise and resistance in her eyes.

"I'm not saying at all that you should forget or ignore what you're feeling," her mother continued, sitting beside her. "I just want you to be sure that you don't have to carry everything alone. No matter what you're searching for, I'm here. I always will be. And I love you. But please, take care of yourself too. That's what he would've wanted."

Sierra held her mother's teary gaze for a moment before looking away. "I know, Mom. But it's hard. It's like... I can't stop thinking about everything he left behind. It's like an unfinished puzzle."

"I know he asked too many questions, but maybe you're demanding answers from yourself that even he didn't have." Her mother sighed, gently stroking Sierra's arm. "You don't need to solve everything, sweetheart. You just need to take it one day at a time."

Sierra didn't reply, only nodded slightly. But deep down, she knew it wasn't that simple. The weight of unanswered questions was a constant shadow, and the clues she had found in her father's office only made the lack of meaning harder to bear.

Moreover, Sierra wasn't being completely honest with her mother about the romantic nature of the exchanges between Sophia and "D." In some way, it suffocated her.

On that same night, when Serena and Sam were together on the living room couch, the atmosphere was calm but heavy. They shared the space in quiet companionship, each in their own world yet comforted by the other's presence. The dim light cast a warm glow around the room.

"Have you noticed how Sierra's been acting... different?" Serena asked, turning to her brother, who was glued to his phone.

"Of course I have. How could I not?" Sam replied without taking his eyes off the screen.

"I don't just mean because of the grief. She's obsessed with Dad's stuff. She spends all day in his office, digging through papers, and... I don't know, it's like she's trying to find something he never told us." Serena shook her head, clearly frustrated. "It's like she can't move on."

"She can't. And maybe that's what we're not getting, Sere." Sam finally put his phone down and gave her his full attention. "Sometimes moving on doesn't mean forgetting. It means finding a way to carry what's left behind without getting lost in the weight. And I think, in her own way, she's trying."

He paused, staring at the ceiling, as if something had just clicked. "Do you remember how she acted when that goldfish died? Or when the neighbor's hamster went missing? Or the funeral she held for the bird that fell out of its nest in our yard when we were eight? That's why we never had pets in this house. Sierra's never been good at dealing with loss. She doesn't know how to let go. And now... with Dad... it's no different, just much, much bigger."

Serena was silently recalling each story.

Sam took a deep breath as if trying to organize his thoughts. "And this time, it's different. It's not just grief—there's this whole mystery. And, honestly, I don't blame her. Dad's death was... weird. No one talks about it much, but didn't you ever think it was kind of suspicious?"

Serena crossed her arms, frowning. "Suspicious how?"

"He was healthy. No history of anything serious. And then, out of nowhere, a heart attack? And right now, when he'd started acting more distant, spending so much time in that office, like he was hiding something?"

Serena sighed, still skeptical but with a hint of concern in her expression. "You think it was... like, something he discovered? Something that got him killed?"

"I don't know. But if he was involved in something dangerous, this might be bigger than we realize." Sam rested his elbows on his knees, looking intently at his sister. "And as much as I want to protect her, maybe the only way to deal with this is by finding answers. So, since Mom asked us to keep an eye on her, maybe we need to be more present and show her she doesn't have to handle this alone."

Serena sighed. "I don't know how to help. She barely talks to me."

"Then don't push, sis. Sometimes just being there is enough." Sam picked up his phone again. "But seriously, Serena, we can't ignore what's happening. If she keeps going like this, she's going to lose herself." He paused, his voice softening. "We already lost Dad. I'm not willing to lose her too."

Serena stayed silent, biting her lip as she thought. As much as she hated to admit it, Sam was right. Something about Dad's death had never made sense. And if I was scared of what Sierra might uncover, maybe it was because part of me was also afraid of facing the truth.