I had never seen it before.

Not once.

Almost eighteen years in the same house, and somehow I had never known it existed.

The chest was handmade.

Dark wood.

Uneven corners.

Imperfect hinges.

David placed it on the patio table in front of Hannah.

She ran her fingers over the lid.

“Dad, what is this?”

He sat across from her.

Then he said,

“There’s something we should have told you a long time ago.”

I felt sick.

Hannah looked at me.

I couldn’t meet her eyes.

David continued.

“You weren’t born alone.”

She frowned.

“What?”

“You had a twin sister.”

Hannah froze.

David’s voice cracked.

“Her name was Rosie.”

She didn’t move.

“She was born eleven minutes after you.”

Her hands remained on top of the wooden box.

“She di3d nine days after we brought you home.”

Silence.

I expected Hannah to cry.

She didn’t.