At the end, "I know."
A pause ensued after she made those words.
"I am worried too," Francesca confessed, and Penelope lowered her gaze, brittle smile forming which only appeared heart-wrenching.
"Oh, Pen," Francesca whispered, opening her arms and drawing her sister into a warm embrace.
For a moment, Penelope resisted merely because she had spent so many days holding herself together that she no longer knew how to let go.
Yet the instant Francesca's arms tightened around her, something within her weakened.
The tears she had fought so hard to hold back all evening burned suddenly behind her eyes.
"I do not know what to do," Penelope admitted softly.
Francesca's heart twisted. It was a rare confession. Penelope had always been the stronger of the two, the sister who endured disappointment with quiet grace and concealed her pain behind gentle smiles.
To hear uncertainty in her voice was far more alarming than tears.
