Milan
People tend to make mistakes when they think they’re safe. China spent the whole evening watching me, almost like she was waiting for something to happen. The last thing I wanted was to make her feel she had a reason to be nervous.
So I just smiled through dessert. I listened while Malcolm’s mother talked about floral arrangements. I let Aunt Renee ask if I planned to move back home. I even posed for some pictures. That part nearly made me laugh.
China stood next to me, her arm around my waist, while the photographer told us to lean in closer.
“Beautiful,” he said. “Now give me a real smile.”
China laughed. The camera flash went off. For a second, it felt like we were twenty again. Our smiles matched. No Malcolm between us.
The photographer put the camera down, and I suddenly remembered who was standing next to me. China gave my waist a gentle squeeze.
“I want a copy of that one.”
“Me too.”
She seemed surprised.
“You do?”
“Of course.”
The camera flashed again. I turned toward her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep looking at me like you’re waiting for my head to spin around.”
She laughed, but it sounded forced.
“I’m just so happy you’re here.”
“So you keep saying.”
China reached up and adjusted a strand of my hair. It was something she used to do when we were younger. Back when I let her. Back when her touch didn’t make me question what she was hiding.
“You know I love you, right?” she asked.
There were so many ways I could've answered.
Instead, I smiled.
“You’re getting sentimental.”
“I’m getting married tomorrow.”
“That explains it.”
Her hand dropped.
“Milan.”
“Hmm?”
“I mean it.”
I met her gaze. Then I leaned in and kissed her cheek.
“I know.”
I didn’t say it back and China noticed. I knew because after I walked away, she touched the spot where I had kissed her. That was good had to let her mind wonder.
I made it three steps before Malcolm intercepted me.
“You leaving?”
I glanced around the ballroom. Dinner was ending. People were gathering purses and hugging each other goodbye. The quartet had packed up. Servers were clearing wineglasses from empty tables.
“It appears to be over.”
“We’re going upstairs.”
“Who’s we?”
“The wedding party.”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“Drinks, China wants everybody in the bridal suite.”
“Of course she does.”
Malcolm lowered his voice.
“You don’t have to come though.”
That caught my attention. I tilted my head.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying, it’s been a long day.”
“You trying to get rid of me?”
“No.”
“You sure about that?”
His jaw flexed.
“Milan, I’m trying to avoid a problem.”
“What problem?”
He looked around before answering.
“You.”
I laughed. He probably didn’t expect me to laugh.
“I’m the problem?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, Malcolm I don’t.”
He stepped closer. His voice got quieter.
“I saw your face during Sierra’s speech.”
“My face?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“This.”
He made a small motion between us.
“This thing where you answer a question with a question because you want people to keep talking.”
I smiled because he remembered. It annoyed me more than I wanted to admit.
“You used to like that about me.”
“I used to like a lot about you.”
The words came out too easily. Malcolm seemed to realize it at the same time I did. We stared at each other. Then I laughed softly.
“Careful now.”
He looked away. I followed his gaze.
China was near the entrance, saying goodbye to one of Malcolm’s relatives.
“She know you’re reminiscing?” I asked.
“I’m not.”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“Milan.”
“Relax, you keep looking like you’re about to have a heart attack.”
He turned back to me.
“Why did you come?”
“Because China invited me to be apart of her special day.”
“That’s not why.”
“You seem pretty convinced.”
“I know you.”
“No, you knew me.”
Malcolm’s expression hardened.
“Exactly.”
For the first time, I understood his fear in a way I hadn’t before. He wasn’t afraid because I might yell. He was afraid because he didn’t know who I was anymore. That helped me.
“I’m going upstairs,” I said.
His eyebrows drew together.
“I thought you were tired.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Milan.”
I stepped around him.
“See you there.”
China had reserved one of the larger suites for the bridal party.
When I got upstairs, music was playing and someone had already opened two bottles of tequila.
Sierra was sprawled across a chair near the window, shoes off, still tipsy from dinner. She waved when she saw me.
“Milan!”
China looked over. I saw something cross her face. Not relief but surprise. Maybe she thought Malcolm would talk me out of coming.
“I thought you were going to bed,” she said.
“I was.”
“So, what happened?”
“I remembered I’m only here for a short time not a long time.”
Sierra laughed loudly.
“See? I told you I liked her.”
China shot her a look, but Sierra either didn’t notice or just didn’t care.
“Drink?” one of the bridesmaids asked.
“No, thanks.”
“Not even one?”
“I’m good.”
Sierra pointed at me.
“She doesn’t drink,” China answered.
“I do drink. I just said I’m good.”
The room got quiet for a moment. I played it cool.
“Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, I need to be prepared.”
That answer seemed to satisfy everyone. China handed me a bottle of water.
“Here.”
“Thank you.”
I sat on the edge of a velvet chair by the window. From there, I could see nearly everyone. Malcolm was at the bar with his best man. China was by the bed, opening gifts. Sierra kept talking. People got chatty when they were drunk.
“Okay,” Sierra said, clapping her hands. “We’re playing a game.”
China groaned.
“No, Sierra.”
“Yes.”
“No embarrassing questions.”
“That takes all the fun out of it.”
“Especially no questions about exes.”
Sierra looked at me, then at Malcolm, then at China. The room broke out in nervous laughter. I laughed too, but China stayed quiet.
“See?” Sierra said. “Milan can take a joke.”
“I can take several.”
China shot me a warning look, but I only smiled back. Sierra sat up straighter.
“Fine, we'll do bride trivia.”
Everyone cheered. The rules were simple: all the questions would be about China.
Malcolm answered almost everything correctly, but I knew even more than he did.
When Sierra asked about China’s childhood nickname, Malcolm and I both answered at the same time.
“China Doll.”
Everyone laughed. China glanced over at me.
I just shrugged.
“Dad called us both that when he was being lazy.”
Sierra asked another question.
“What was China’s first car?”
“Blue Honda,” I answered.
“Wrong,” Malcolm said.
I looked over at him. He smirked.
“It was a black Accord.”
“No, mine was black.”
China froze. Malcolm looked between us. I started to smile slowly.
“China’s was blue.”
Malcolm frowned.
“I could’ve sworn…”
“You’re thinking of me.”
The room went quiet. China laughed nervously.
“Y’all are twins. It’s easy to mix things up.”
Sierra lifted her glass.
Everyone laughed except me. I looked at Malcolm, then at China. A chill ran down my neck. Malcolm had known us since college. He dated me for almost four years, and China was always around. He should have remembered which car was mine and which was hers. Maybe the mix-up meant something more.
Sierra moved on.
“What tattoo does China have that nobody can see unless she’s naked?”
China threw a pillow at her.
“Sierra!”
The room screamed with laughter. Sierra ducked.
“Answer!”
Malcolm grinned.
“Left Hip,” I answered quickly.
I looked over at China. There was a small butterfly on her left hip. I remembered being there when she got it. We were nineteen then.
I stared at her. China noticed me staring.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I was trying to remember when you got that tattoo.”
“Nineteen.”
I nodded. She gave me a small smile.
About half an hour later, the room was louder than before. Malcolm was gone. I noticed right away. China was gone too. I checked the bathroom door, then the empty balcony. As I headed to the hallway, Sierra looked up.
“Where you going?”
“Bathroom.”
“It’s one right there.”
I smiled.
“I prefer the one in my room.”
She stared at me.
“You are so mysterious.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I left before anyone could stop me. The hallway was quiet. My room was just next door, but I didn’t go there.
Instead, I walked toward the elevators. Then I heard low voices around the corner by the ice machine.
China.
“…don’t know what she knows.”
I stopped. Malcolm answered.
“She knows something.”
“How you figure?”
“I don’t know, I just got a feeling.”
My heart started beating faster.
China spoke more quietly, but the hallway still carried her voice.
“You shouldn’t have gone over there.”
“I was trying to figure out why she came.”
“She came because I invited her.”
“No, she came for something else.”
“She hasn’t said anything.”
“Yet.”
“You’re making me nervous.”
“You should be nervous.”
I leaned against the wall, my heartbeat steady. China whispered something I couldn’t make out. Malcolm answered louder.
“We agreed we weren’t going to talk about that.”
“What am I supposed to do if she asks?”
“Lie.”
The word hit hard. There was no hesitation or confusion.
China said, “I hate this.”
“You should’ve never invited her.”
“She’s my sister.”
“She was your sister six years ago too.”
China was quiet. That hurt to hear. I hated that it did.
China spoke more quietly.
“I thought maybe enough time had passed.”
“For what?”
“For her to let it go.”
I closed my eyes. She thought six years was enough for me to move on from prison. My mother died while I was inside. My father had a stroke. My name turned into something people whispered. China thought I should be healed just because time had passed.
Malcolm sighed.
“Just get through tomorrow.”
“And after that?”
“After that she leaves.”
A pause. Then China said something that made my mind go blank.
“She can’t find out I was there.”
My eyes opened. Malcolm spoke immediately.
“Keep your voice down.”
There. The night before my arrest. The camera footage. My sister was there.
I stepped away from the wall before they could round the corner and catch me.
I walked back to my room with cold hands. I unlocked the door, slipped inside, and shut it quietly.
I stood in the dark for a moment. I thought I would feel vindicated, but I just felt sick. It's one thing to suspect someone betrayed you, but another to hear them admit it.
I crossed the room and pulled the black duffel bag from under the bed. The photograph was on top. I set it on the bed.
I opened one of the envelopes. Inside were evidence photographs, printed articles, and a copy of the parking garage photo. I had stared at that photo thousands of times.
A woman in a hooded sweatshirt walked toward a silver sedan. My car turned up two blocks away the next morning, and my fingerprints were inside, but duh it was my car. I held the photograph closer. The woman’s face was turned away, and that was always what I noticed.
But I had never noticed her left hand, which was just barely visible near her pocket. A ring.
I set the picture aside and grabbed my phone. I still had old photos saved online from before prison. Most were too painful to look at.
I searched for China and scrolled through countless photos.
Then I found it: China at twenty-three, holding a champagne glass.
On her left middle finger was the ring our grandmother gave her.
She wore it every day, even on the witness stand.
I looked back at the security image and zoomed in. The picture blurred, but it was enough.
“Oh, China.”
My voice was barely a whisper. Then someone knocked at the door. I froze. There was another knock.
“Milan?”
It was China. I slid the papers back into the envelope and stuffed everything into the duffel bag.
Another knock.
“You in there?”
I shoved the bag under the bed.
“One second.”
I checked my face in the mirror before opening the door. China stood there barefoot, holding two glasses of champagne.
“I thought you were going to the bathroom.”
“I did, then I laid down for a second.”
She smiled.
“I brought peace offerings.”
I looked at the glasses.
“You know I’m not drinking.”
“Just one.”
“I said no.”
Her smile tightened.
“Okay.”
She walked past me without waiting for an invitation. Same old China. I closed the door. She set the glasses on the dresser and sat on the edge of the bed, right above the duffel.
“You disappeared.”
“I was tired after using the bathroom.”
“Malcolm said you were acting weird.”
I laughed.
“Malcolm says a lot.”
China studied me.
“He thinks you hate him.”
“I do.”
Her eyes widened. I smiled.
“You asked.”
She looked down at her hands.
“What about me?”
The question beneath all the others. I leaned against the dresser.
"What about you?”
“Do you hate me?”
I looked at my sister.
She was nervous.
I could ask her now. I could show her the picture, bring up the text, or say I heard everything in the hallway.
Instead, I smiled.
“No.”
She relaxed all over, and for a moment, that almost made me angry. China stood and hugged me. I let her.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered.
I kept my eyes open. Over her shoulder, I saw our reflection in the mirror.
Reminding me of our cute twin trick. From switching seats in class, taking each other’s tests, confusing boys at parties. I never thought she’d use my face to steal six years of my life.
China pulled away.
“I want tomorrow to be perfect.”
“It will be.”
“You promise?”
I smiled.
“I promise.”
She kissed my cheek and picked up both champagne glasses.
“I’ll let you get some rest.”
“China?”
She turned around.
I almost asked her, but instead I looked at her hand.
“Do you still have Grandma’s ring?”
Her expression shifted.
“What ring?”
“The diamond one.”
“Oh.”
She lowered her eyes.
“No, I lost it years ago.”
“When?”
She hesitated.
“I don’t remember.”
I nodded.
“That's a shame.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
China watched me for another second, then smiled.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
She left. I waited until I heard her door close, then locked mine.
The burner phone buzzed in the duffel. I pulled it out. Same unknown number.
NOW YOU KNOW.
I typed back for the first time.
WHO ARE YOU?
The reply popped up right away.
THE PERSON WHO KNOWS WHAT THEY DID. AND REASON YOU'RE A FREE WOMAN
I stared at the screen.
Another message followed.
IF YOU WANT THE REST, COME TO THE PARKING GARAGE. LEVEL FOUR. 11:30. ALONE.
I checked the time.
10:57 p.m. That left me thirty-three minutes. I unzipped the duffel bag. I pulled out a black wig. I glanced at the three names on my list.
For the first time since I got home, I wondered if three names were enough. I folded the paper and tucked it into my purse. And if whoever was texting me was telling the truth, that was only the beginning.
I turned off the lamp. I headed downstairs.