**Emma's POV**

I grabbed the bracelet off the porch railing before Marcus could stop me.

Big mistake.

The metal burned ice-cold against my palm. My vision went fuzzy around the edges, and suddenly I wasn't standing on my porch anymore.

I was seven years old again.

*"Come on, Emma!" Kara's voice rang out across the playground. "We're making a fort!"*

*A boy with messy black hair grinned at me from the top of the slide. Marcus. We'd just met that morning, but already it felt like we'd known each other forever.*

*"Emma! You coming or not?" Kara grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the trees.*

The memory hit so hard I gasped. My knees buckled.

"Emma!" Marcus caught me before I fell. His hands gripped my arms tight. "What's wrong?"

"I—" The bracelet slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the porch. I blinked hard, forcing myself back to the present. "I saw them. Us. When we were kids."

Marcus stared at the bracelet like it might bite him. "That's impossible. Kara was buried with that."

"Then how is it here?"

We both looked at the empty yard. The trees swayed in the wind. Nothing else moved.

"Someone's messing with you," Marcus said, but his voice shook. "Someone who knows about Kara. About us."

"Or Kara's alive." The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

Marcus's face went hard. "Don't. Don't go there, Emma. We saw the coffin—"

"We saw a closed coffin." My heart pounded. "We never actually saw her body. What if—"

"Stop." Marcus picked up the bracelet with shaking fingers. "I'm taking this to Detective Reeves. Let the police handle it."

"The police will think I'm crazy."

"You're not crazy." But he wouldn't meet my eyes when he said it.

After Marcus left, I stood alone on my porch. The afternoon sun was sinking low, painting everything orange and gold. Beautiful. Wrong. How could the world look so normal when nothing made sense anymore?

I went inside and locked the door. Then I checked it twice more just to be sure.

Three hours until Lily's bus came home. Three hours to figure out what was happening before my daughter saw me falling apart.

I made tea I didn't drink. Stared at my laptop without seeing it. Checked the locks again.

My phone buzzed. A text from Dr. Chen: *How are you feeling today? Remember our breathing exercises.*

I almost laughed. Breathing exercises wouldn't help with dead best friends sending postcards.

At three-fifteen, I heard the bus rumble down our dirt road. I plastered on a smile and opened the door.

Lily bounced down the bus steps, pigtails flying. "Mommy! Guess what? I got a gold star in math!"

"That's wonderful, baby." I hugged her tight, breathing in her strawberry shampoo smell. Something real. Something good. Something that made sense.

Inside, Lily dumped her backpack and pulled out crayons and paper. She always drew after school. Mermaids mostly. Sometimes princesses. Happy things.

"Want a snack?" I asked.

"Chocolate milk?"

I poured her a glass and watched her draw. Seven years old. The same age I was when everything began.

When Kara had grabbed my hand on the playground and declared we were best friends now. When Marcus had shared his lunch with us under the big oak tree. When the three of us became inseparable.

We did everything together. Built forts. Caught fireflies. Made up secret codes. Kara was the brave one, always climbing higher, running faster, daring us to follow. Marcus was the protector, making sure we never got hurt. And I was—

What was I? The quiet one. The careful one. The one who survived when Kara didn't.

"Mommy?" Lily's voice pulled me back. "Why are you crying?"

I touched my face. Wet. "Just thinking about old friends, sweetie."

"The ones in the picture in your closet?"

My stomach dropped. "What picture?"

"The one in the shoebox. I saw it when I was looking for my winter boots." Lily kept coloring, not looking at me. "You and a boy and a girl. You were all smiling."

I'd hidden that photo years ago. Couldn't stand looking at it—the three of us at the beach, arms around each other, thinking we'd be friends forever.

"You shouldn't go through my things," I said softly.

"I know. Sorry." She switched to a purple crayon. "The girl had the same bracelet as the one on our porch."

My blood turned to ice. "What?"

"I saw it when I got off the bus. The silver one with the lighthouse. It's like the one in the picture." Lily looked up at me with those too-smart eyes. "Did it belong to your friend?"

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. "Lily, that bracelet—when exactly did you see it?"

"Like I said. When I got off the bus." She went back to her drawing. "A lady was holding it."

The world tilted. "What lady?"

"The one standing by the tree. She had dark hair and she was watching our house." Lily drew a mermaid tail, humming. "She smiled at me."

I grabbed Lily's shoulders. Too hard. She yelped.

"What did she look like? The lady. Tell me everything."

"Mommy, you're hurting me!"

I let go, my hands shaking. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry. Just—please. What did the lady look like?"

Lily rubbed her shoulders, eyes welling with tears. "Pretty. She had long dark hair and she was wearing a blue coat. She waved at me."

"Did she say anything?"

"No. She just stood there. Then she was gone." Lily's bottom lip trembled. "Why are you being scary?"

"I'm not—" I took a breath. Another. Like Dr. Chen taught me. "I'm not trying to be scary. I'm just worried about strangers near our house."

"She didn't seem like a stranger." Lily picked up her crayon again. "She seemed like she knew us."

I walked to the window on shaking legs. Our yard was empty. Just trees and fallen leaves and the dirt road leading to town.

But someone had been there. Someone had given Lily's bus a bracelet that should be buried six feet underground.

Someone who looked like Kara.

"Lily, if you see that lady again, you tell me right away. Okay? Don't talk to her. Don't go near her. Just find me."

"Okay, Mommy." Lily sounded small. Scared.

I hated that I was scaring her. Hated that my past was bleeding into her present. But I had to keep her safe.

Even if I didn't understand from what.

I made dinner—chicken nuggets and green beans—and Lily ate quietly. No chattering about school. No silly jokes. Just silence.

After dinner, I let her watch cartoons while I cleaned up. My phone stayed silent. No call from Marcus. No update from Detective Reeves.

Nothing.

At seven-thirty, I tucked Lily into bed. "Sweet dreams, baby."

"Mommy?" Her small hand grabbed mine. "Are you mad at me? For seeing the lady?"

"No, sweetie. Never." I kissed her forehead. "I'm just—there's some grown-up stuff happening. But you're safe. I promise."

"Okay." She snuggled into her pillow. "Love you."

"Love you more."

I left her door cracked open and went to my room. Pulled out the shoebox from the closet. The photo was right on top—three kids grinning at the camera, ocean behind us, whole lives ahead of us.

We looked so happy. So sure nothing bad could ever happen.

We were wrong.

I was about to close the box when I saw it.

Another photo underneath. One I didn't remember putting there.

My hands shook as I picked it up.

It was recent. Taken with a phone camera, grainy and too close.

It showed Lily getting off the school bus.

Today.

This afternoon.

And in the background, barely visible between the trees, was a woman with long dark hair.

Watching.

I flipped the photo over.

Written on the back in that familiar loopy handwriting:

*"She looks just like you did. I can't wait to meet her. —K"*