I looked at my younger sister. I looked at the girl I had once let myself burn for.

I searched the depths of my heart for lingering anger, for the desire to punish her further, but I found the well dry. There was no hatred left in my eyes, only a distant pity.

“You do not want my forgiveness, Chloe,” I said, my voice soft but quiet but firm. “You simply want a safe place from the storm that you helped create.”

“No, I mean it!” she sobbed, reaching out a trembling, pale hand toward the doorframe. “You’re my sister! I love you!”

I did not reach out to take her hand. “Forgiveness is a house you have to build from the ground up. It is earned through years of changed behavior, Chloe. It is not something you get to demand just because you finally experienced the consequences of being cruel.”