"I know."
"You were there when my marriage fell apart. When I lost my job. When I thought I couldn't keep going."
"I know."
"Did any of that mean anything? Or was it all because of him?"
"It meant everything." She was crying again. "You're my sister. I didn't know it then, but I think I felt it. You've always felt like family."
I wanted to hate her. I wanted to walk away and never look back.
But she was still Emma. The same girl who showed up with ice cream after my divorce. Who texted me every morning for a month when I was depressed. Who knew me better than anyone.
My father lied about everything. But he didn't create our friendship. We did.