Chapter 2

Slowly, I felt the pain fade away.

Like a dandelion seed carried by the wind, I floated gently into the air, clearly seeing the small body on the bed.

The crumpled school uniform clung to her, her face as white as paper, her lips an unnatural purplish-blue. A smudge of undigested bile still clung to the corner of her mouth, and in her hand, she clutched that small toy car.

Mom pushed the door open just as I was looking down at my own hands.

They were transparent, allowing the sunlight to pass through them, revealing a photo of Noah.

She didn't glance at me on the bed. Instead, she walked straight to the desk, picked up Noah's photo, and meticulously wiped it clean, murmuring, "Noah, Mom's going to buy you a new bassinet today. Do you like blue or yellow?"

She turned to leave, accidentally kicking the bedframe.

Only then did she impatiently glance at me on the bed, frowning. "Still sleeping? The sun's practically noon. Get up and make breakfast. Do you want to starve Noah and me?"

I floated in front of her, trying to speak, but she couldn't hear me. She shuffled out in her slippers, still humming a lullaby.

From the living room, I heard Dad, Robert, scrambling eggs, and Mom's, Claire's, instructions: "Add two more spoonfuls of sugar. Noah always loved sweets."

I floated to the kitchen doorway, watching Dad put pancakes on a plate—they were heart-shaped.

I used to love pancakes like that, too, but ever since Noah died, Dad had only made round ones. He said Noah didn't like anything fancy.

Mom took the plate, carefully placing it in the center of the dining table, as if worshipping a precious artifact.

"Go wake her up for breakfast," Mom told Dad, her tone full of impatience. "Don't let her make us late for buying Noah's bassinet."

Dad put down his glass of milk and walked towards my room.

I followed behind him, watching him stand by the bed, reaching out his hand, then letting it fall onto the blanket instead.

"Scarlett, time to get up." His voice was soft. "We're going to buy a bassinet today. Do you want to come with us?"

The me on the bed didn't stir. Dad's fingers trembled, and he nudged my shoulder. "Scarlett?"

Mom's voice came from the living room. "What's taking so long? Is she faking sleep again?"

She hurried in, saw Dad frozen by the bed, and immediately flared up. "She's definitely faking it! She just doesn't want us to buy Noah a bassinet! Let's just go without her. Noah is waiting!"

Dad didn't move. He looked at me on the bed, very agitated. "She's our daughter too!"

"She is not!" Mom shrieked. "My only child is Noah! She's the one who killed Noah!"

She grabbed the photo from the desk and smashed it to the floor. Glass shards cut Dad's hand.

Dad didn't say a word, just quietly picked up the fragments, wrapping his wound with a tissue.

The living room phone rang. It was Ms. Rodriguez, my teacher, from school.

Mom answered, her tone immediately softening. "Hello, Ms. Rodriguez, is this about Noah… oh no, I mean, about Scarlett?" Hearing the teacher ask why I hadn't been to school, Mom's voice turned cold again. "She's just intentionally skipping school. Ms. Rodriguez, please don't bother with her. Let her fend for herself."

She hung up the phone, then pulled Dad outside. "Let's go. Don't let her make us late for buying Noah's bassinet."

Dad looked back at my room, his steps faltering, but Mom pulled him away.

The moment the door closed, I saw Dad wipe his eyes.

The house was eerily silent, only the ticking of the wall clock breaking the stillness.

I floated to the bedside, looking at myself.

My face was still round, but it was so gaunt it was unrecognizable, my chin unnaturally sharp.

My hair had grown quite a bit, covering my eyes, not short as Mom demanded.

I remembered the last haircut. The stylist accidentally cut it a bit too short, and Mom had yelled at him, saying he'd ruined Noah's look.

When we got home, she made me kneel for two hours, then told me I wasn't worthy of having hair like Noah's.

As I knelt there, looking at Noah's photo, I suddenly felt very distant.