The grocery store was unusually quiet that Tuesday afternoon. I was pushing my cart lazily down aisle six, eyes scanning the shelves for a carton of milk. The fluorescent lights above hummed softly, casting a sterile glow over everything.
As I reached for the milk, I noticed a woman standing a few feet away. Her back was turned, but something about her was familiar. The way she stood, the tilt of her head—it was unmistakable.
It was my sister.
“Anna?” I called softly, uncertain if my eyes were playing tricks on me.
She turned slowly, revealing a baby nestled in her arms. I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing. Anna hadn’t mentioned a baby. In fact, she hadn’t mentioned much at all in the past year.
“Oh, hey,” she replied, her voice a mix of surprise and hesitation, eyes darting between me and the infant.
“I didn’t know you…” I started, but the words caught in my throat.
“Yeah,” she said, her gaze now fixed firmly on the cereal boxes beside her.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
