Chapter 5 - The Pocket Watch
The word hung in the air, heavy and impossible. Sister.
Isabella’s breath caught in her throat. The anger vanished, replaced by a sudden, icy wave of confusion. She stared at the bleeding waitress, really looking at her for the first time. Beneath the cheap catering uniform and the messy hair, the facial structure was undeniable. It was like looking at a ghost.
"W-What did you just say?" Isabella whispered, her voice stripped of all its former power.
Amelia didn't answer immediately. Her hands, steadying themselves with a newfound, terrifying resolve, reached into the deep pocket of her black apron. She pulled out the heavy, scratched silver pocket watch.
The metal caught the light of the chandeliers. Amelia pressed her thumb against the tiny, worn latch.
Click.
The watch popped open. It did not contain a clock face. Instead, nestled inside the tarnished silver casing, was a faded, meticulously folded black-and-white photograph. Amelia carefully extracted the photo and held it up.
"My father gave this to me," Amelia said, her voice growing slightly stronger, echoing in the absolute silence of the room. "He told me to keep it hidden until I was ready."
She turned the photograph so Isabella could see it. It showed two newborn girls, tiny and fragile, wrapped in identical hospital blankets. They were lying side by side in a sterile crib.
"Turn it over," Amelia instructed softly.
Isabella, her hands now shaking uncontrollably, reached out and took the photograph. Her fingers brushed against Amelia’s, and another strange jolt passed between them. Isabella flipped the small piece of paper over.
There, written in faded, elegant blue ink, were two names.
Isabella. Amelia. Born October 14th. Hartley.
May you like
Isabella stared at the ink. The handwriting was unmistakable. It was the distinct, looping script of her late mother, a woman who had died when Isabella was just a toddler.
"No…" Isabella whispered, her mind violently rejecting the reality before her. She took a step back, shaking her head. "That’s impossible. I don't have a sister. I am an only child."
