Gilded Lies The Perfect Sister

<p>The sunlight glimmered off the Miami skyline like shards of</p><p>champagne each reflection sharp and golden against the glass</p><p>towers. I stood barefoot on my balcony silk robe tied loosely</p><p>around me letting the ocean breeze tease the ends of my hair.</p><p>The water below shimmered deceptively calm the kind of calm</p><p>I'd learned not to trust. One year of silence one year of space</p><p>and here I was breathing freely again-or so I thought.</p><p>Inside my penthouse the scent of peonies and sandalwood</p><p>lingered courtesy of a dozen Jo Malone diffusers lined along</p><p>the marble counters. My phone vibrated on the counter a soft</p><p>gold-glass tray rattling slightly beneath it. Unread messages.</p><p>Twelve missed calls.</p><p>All from her.</p><p>Rochelle.</p><p>I didn't block her number. Not entirely. Not yet. There was still</p><p>that tiny fragment of hope buried in the corners of my chest-</p><p>hope that maybe she had changed that maybe her words would</p><p>soften that maybe... she'd say she was sorry</p><p><br> </p>