I had always believed Emmett told me everything important. We had been married long enough to know each other’s habits, fears, and silences, or so I thought. Then one afternoon, while I was working in the hospital, a receptionist mentioned a woman’s name that meant nothing to me: Dana. She was asking for Emmett and had apparently been listed as his emergency contact. I froze because I had never heard the name before. When I asked Emmett about her later, he became unusually quiet. He finally admitted that Dana was someone he had met recently, but he refused to explain why she had been listed as the person to call if something happened to him. That answer only made me more suspicious.

The following evening, I came home to find Dana sitting across from Emmett. The atmosphere was tense, and both of them looked as though they had been waiting for a difficult conversation. I asked who she was. Emmett opened his mouth, hesitated, and finally said one word that seemed to rearrange the entire room. “Sister.” I looked at Dana again, and suddenly I noticed the resemblance—the same jawline, the same expression, even the same way they became completely still before saying something painful.