"Isn't that Mara? Why on earth is her picture here?" Ivy asked.
Balfour furrowed in confusion.
Ivy felt a twinge of annoyance. Today, only a handful of people had come by, and apart from Mara, who else would slip the photo under her pillow?
Just as Balfour reached to take the photo, Ivy suddenly halted him.
"Wait a sec, let me take another look at this picture. The girl doesn't quite look like Mara."
She scrutinized the photo, her brows knitting together. The photo was old, its edges frayed and beginning to split, even the plastic cover was peeling away.
"Look here, this girl in the picture has a mole on her cheek, but Mara doesn't. Are you sure this is her?"
Balfour leaned in closer, saying with certainty, "That's her sister."
Ivy's heart skipped a beat, a bittersweet feeling washing over her. Mara's sister... the girl who died for Balfour.
She wished she could have known Balfour sooner, to have shared those experiences with him herself.
But alas, fate had other plans.
Balfour tactfully shifted the conversation, "Let's not talk about others right now."
But Ivy couldn't shake off the strangeness of the photo.
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