– Neighbors.
– Ava’s mother.
– Ms. Holloway and Mr. Bennett.

Beside every name, Lily had written notes explaining why they mattered and when I should reach out to them.

Judy exhaled softly. “Lily really didn’t want you to feel alone.”

The fourth box was different.

“Memories You’ll Forget First.”

I didn’t think forgetting her was possible. But once I opened it, I realized she was right.

There were photos I’d never seen before.

Lily laughing in the kitchen. Sitting cross-legged on the floor while reading.

Some photos had notes attached.

“This was the day you burned the pancakes, and we laughed for 30 minutes.”

A shaky laugh escaped through my tears.

“I forgot about that…”

My sister smiled softly. “She didn’t.”

The fifth box frightened me a little.

“The Hard Truth.”

I hesitated before opening it.

Inside was a journal filled entirely with Lily’s handwriting.

She wrote about doctor appointments, days when she felt weaker, and the way she could see fear in my face even when I tried hiding it.

“She knew…” I whispered.

Judy nodded quietly.

Lily had written about me too.

About how I kept insisting everything would be okay. About how I refused to face the truth because I couldn’t survive it.

“Lily didn’t want me to fall apart…” I whispered, my voice breaking apart.

That was when I lost control again.

I turned and buried my face against Judy’s shoulder, sobbing harder than I had in weeks.

And for the first time since Lily died…

I stopped trying to hold everything inside.

I don’t know how long Judy held me.

She never rushed me. She simply stood there, steady and patient, letting me cry in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to since losing Lily. Eventually, I pulled away and wiped my face.

Then something suddenly occurred to me.

“Ju… how did you know which storage facility to come to?” I asked slowly. “I never gave you the address.”

She hesitated before sighing softly.

“It took you a while,” she said with a faint smile. “I helped Lily organize all of this for months. She insisted.”

I stared at her.

“You knew?”

My sister nodded. “Li came to me about six months ago. She said she needed help with something important. At first I thought it was school-related, but then she showed me her plan. She used her birthday money and what she earned babysitting Mrs. Greene’s son downstairs. I helped pay for the storage unit.”

I looked around again, overwhelmed all over again.

“She made me promise not to tell you,” Judy explained. “She said you weren’t ready yet.”

I let out a shaky breath. “She was right.”

Judy pointed toward the last box.

“There’s one more thing.”

I walked toward it slowly.

The final box sat slightly apart from the others.

Inside was only one envelope labeled: “LAST ONE.”

When I opened it, a small video drive slid into my hand.

“That’s it?” I asked quietly.

“That’s the important one,” Judy replied. “I brought my laptop.”

Of course she had.

Judy opened her laptop while we sat together in her car. I held the drive tightly in my hands.

“You ready?” she asked.

I wasn’t. But I nodded anyway.

The video loaded.

Then Lily appeared on the screen.

She sat on her bed looking directly into the camera.

My breath caught instantly.

“Hi Mommy…”

I covered my mouth.

“If you’re watching this, it means you stayed stuck longer than I hoped.”

A weak laugh escaped me through tears.

“I know you,” she continued gently. “You’re probably not leaving the apartment unless you have to. You’re not answering calls. So, listen… I need you to do something for me.”

I shook my head slightly, overwhelmed already.

“You don’t get to stop living just because I’m not there. So here’s the plan. You’re going to go back to my school and talk to the librarian. And you’re going to volunteer there.”

I frowned through tears and glanced toward Judy.

“There’s always a kid sitting alone in there,” Lily said softly. “Someone who feels invisible. I’ve seen them.”

Her voice softened even more.

“Go find one of them, Mom. Help them. The way you always helped me.”

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

The screen flickered briefly.

“And Mom… don’t do it for me.”

A tiny smile appeared on her face.

“Do it because you’re still here.”

Then the video ended.

We sat there silently.