I opened mine first.

Inside was a friendship bracelet, a childhood photograph, and a handwritten letter.

As I unfolded the paper, it felt as though Nora had stepped back into the room.

“Dear Gia,

If you’re reading this, you’re twenty-one now. That sounds very old, but Mom says twenty-one is still young, so don’t act like you know everything.”

Babyshower planning

A laugh escaped through my tears.

The letter continued.

She remembered everything.

My habit of drawing flowers everywhere.

The songs I sang when I thought nobody could hear.

The way I hid my feelings whenever I was hurt.

“People who love you should know where it hurts,” she wrote.

I pressed the letter against my chest.

Even after ten years, Nora still understood me better than anyone.

Then Leila opened hers.

Inside were tiny treasures from childhood and another letter.

As she read, tears spilled down her face.

“You are not mean,” Nora had written.

“You are scared. There’s a difference.”

Leila broke down completely.

For years, I had mistaken her anger for resentment.

I thought she blamed me.

Instead, she had been grieving alone.

Finally, she looked at me.

“I missed her so much.”

“I know.”

Her voice cracked.

“I missed you too.”

Those four words shattered the wall between us.

I walked around the table and hugged her.

For the first time in years, neither of us pulled away.

PART 3: Nora’s Final Gift

After we finished reading our letters, one package remained.

The one addressed to both of us.

Inside were photographs, a folded paper crown, and one final envelope.

Across the front, Nora had written:

READ THIS OUT LOUD.

Leila laughed through her tears.