“Your mother. Your brother. My kids. It’s time.”

He blinked twice before giving a slow nod.

“That sounds nice, Evelyn. Really nice.”

He barely slept that night.

I felt him lying awake beside me, staring into the darkness and calculating.

On Sunday morning, I phoned the lawyer once more.

“Bring your copy of the will,” I said. “And the original delivery instructions.”

“Are you certain, Evelyn?”

“I’m certain.”

After ending the call, I studied my reflection in the hallway mirror.

For once, Clara was not the woman looking back at me.

I saw myself—a woman who had finally discovered what her twin had understood long before.

When the doorbell began ringing and our relatives entered the house, I drew in a long breath.

I was prepared to destroy my seven-day marriage completely.

The candle flames trembled as I placed the wooden box beside Michael’s plate.

His fork stopped halfway to his lips.