When I shared Andi’s idea with Eric, he was the opposite of judgmental; he was so accepting that he went straight to the practical. He said if he added the modifications to the planning designs, they’d become public record. He wanted to confirm that would negate what he assumed was the whole point—to make sure no one would know Andi was there.

When we understood the risk he was taking by building an unpermitted apartment, I knew he deserved to know the whole story—as much as I knew, at least—starting from our father leaving to the night she dropped out of college, our mother’s intolerance, and Andi’s increasing agoraphobia. In the end, knowing what Andi had been through actually brought her closer to Eric.

“I’ll get them to grant you a certificate of occupancy for the house and the cottage. If you ever sell this place, you’re going to have a lot of problems with that illegal addition,” he’d said.

“I don’t ever want to sell this place,” I said, dreaming of the business on the horizon.

“Not in our lifetimes,” Andi agreed, comforted by her secret spaces.

I thought Andi and I had a shared vision, but we were never truly on the same page. Stars Harbor was a dream come true for both of us, but in two very different ways. This fundamental divide would remain hidden for years. Until I had my death date.

With my fate sealed, I had broken up with Eric, pushed him away to protect him, but I couldn’t do that with Andi. Besides, to say I would be abandoning her in six months when she couldn’t face the world alone felt beyond cruel. So I had to help her without telling her. I directed all my energy into figuring out how to provide for her when I was gone. The first thing I did was create a will. I left everything to her, which was mainly my bank accounts and Stars Harbor.

After meeting with the lawyer, I felt strong knowing the business would legally pass to her upon my death, but that security faded when I considered the logistics. Andi knew astrology as well as I did; I’d taught her well. She did all the intake forms for new guests; she helped me generate charts and prepare narratives for the readings. Andi could do everything it took to run Stars Harbor behind the scenes. But she could never trust strangers.

Feeling the pressure of time ticking by, I got my answer by watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills when one of the women said, “It’s never too late to say you’re sorry.” She and her sister apologized and hugged it out, not only ending a years-long feud, but also taking care of issues that hadn’t even seemed directly related.

Not willing to place my future in the hands of reality-show editors, I conducted my own research. While no one would call it a cure, there was a lot of support—from Reddit personal anecdotes to articles from psychologists and mental health experts—for the healing power of an apology.

I started myself. Late at night, in the safety of the dark with Andi, I would deliberately reminisce with the intention of making amends for losing my grip. The days I couldn’t bear another minute carrying the burden of a dependent when I’d been abandoned by the parents who were supposed to care for us. I’d felt terrible for the times I had snapped at her for her depression, or tried to shame her into eating when she was severely restricting. I cried when I said I was sorry for those moments of weakness.

Stop beating yourself up for being human. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, she said. A sincere apology and genuine forgiveness. After every late-night sisterly therapy session, I swore I could see a change in Andi.

To continue the healing tour of my final six months, I tried to reach out to our father, but he said he had nothing to apologize for and that Andi’s problems were her own. You turned out well, he said. I hung up on him. I tracked down our mother, but reception was spotty where she was traveling in Marrakech. I raised you both to adulthood. Andi even longer. When you have kids of your own, you’ll appreciate how much I did for both of you, especially as a single mom. Maybe then I’ll get an apology. She hung up on me. No intergenerational apologies were coming.

And that’s when I knew the person who would make the most dramatic difference, and I hatched the plan that could let me die believing Andi was healed, or at least well on her way. A few targeted email blasts and Instagram ads, and the future was in motion.

Andi didn’t know why I thought it was important for us to confront Adam this particular weekend. When I showed her the reservation list, she nodded without hesitation. But as the weekend approached, she refused to come up with a script or a strategy with me. I knew she’d need my help, but she wouldn’t talk about any of it.

I didn’t want to wait until the last possible minute, so I originally floated the idea of Andi appearing during Adam’s reading on Friday night. She balked. When I got scared after the Moon Men event, I wanted to wake everyone up and do it then, before the clock struck midnight. Andi passed on that idea as well. She went radio silent. Given that we’ve all been trapped in the house, I couldn’t coordinate with her for an alternate plan.

But as she reveals herself in the storm—with emotions already heated, confidences betrayed, loyalties tested—I see that Andi had her own agenda, and it could not be more perfect. It’s the exact right moment.

Lightning flashes, illuminating Andi, her face drawn tight.

“Oh, holy hell, this house really was haunting me,” Aimee says.

“Who is that?” Margot asks.

“Miranda, the woman Adam had an affair with ten years ago,” Aimee responds.

“She’s my sister,” I say.

No one speaks for a moment as I try to ease my way into this final negotiation. I’ve been preparing for months, but it’s all coming to a head so quickly. It feels surreal. Andi is outside at Stars Harbor in the presence of other people.

“Rini, you’re making a mistake,” Andi says.

I turn away from the group, shocked and confused by my sister’s words.

“You have the wrong target,” Andi adds.

“It’s not Adam?”

Andi shakes her head.

“See,” he says, taunting me.

“It’s me?” Aimee asks.

Another no from Andi.

“It was Ted,” Andi says.

ANDI

Fate is real. That, you cannot deny. If you didn’t believe in fate, you’d never believe my story. Even if you did, it’s hard to get your head around. That’s why I never told my mom or Rini. And yet, it happened. The Universe conspired to bring it all together.

Fate is real, but it’s not always kind.

It was fate that I chose Professor Flynn’s creative writing class ten years ago. It was fate that our bodies brushed and there was electricity. I didn’t even think to ask if he was married. I was nineteen years old and out of my house for the first time. In the beginning, all I knew was he was talented and sophisticated. Over the course of the semester he confided in me, sharing so much about his life—his parents’ deaths, his MFA war stories, his meddling but lovable sister—but nothing about a wife.

It was fate that she found out. And it was fate that Ted was there the night Aimee attacked me and Adam abandoned me. It was fate that Ted assured Adam he would get me cleaned up and home safely.

Ted was primed to be my savior and he knew the role well. He comforted me, called Adam a loser and a wimp, winning me over as soon as Adam was out of earshot. He pulled clothes out of his gym bag for me to change into. They’re clean, he said.

When I came out of the bathroom feeling embarrassed, he told me I looked cute. Ted was kind and gentle where Adam was commanding and self-assured. Ted was deferential where Adam took the lead. He was everything I needed in that moment and he was everything Adam was never going to be.

I was the one who kissed him first, right there in the middle of the bar, wearing his gym clothes. And when he pulled away and led me out to the back alley by the hand, I thought he was being a gentleman. Knowing the trouble I’d just gotten myself into, I asked him point-blank if he was married, or engaged, or in a serious relationship. He told me no with zero hesitation.

Our chemistry was immediate, his mouth on mine in the alley behind the bar. When he suggested we spend the night together in a hotel, and that hotel was the Gansevoort, I was swept away by the luxury. We changed into robes and flopped on the bed. When he said we didn’t have to do anything if the moment had passed, I thought he was a saint. It was the perfect one-night-stand scenario, like a scene from my favorite teen drama.

It was fate that I got pregnant during our one night together.

I hadn’t wanted a relationship with Ted, because of the timing and because of his connection to Adam, but I never doubted my desire to keep the baby. My family had fallen apart after my parents’ divorce, and to be honest, I was desperate for someone to love. Boys had caused me more pain than I’d expected. Even when the romantic love filled me up, the relationships had left me emptier than before. I wanted this baby. I needed this baby.

I didn’t know where we would live or whether my mom would approve, so I told no one. I worked as many shifts as possible to squirrel away money and to hide my morning sickness, which happened in the bar bathroom during the afternoon and night too.

About a month after I found out I was pregnant, I had a crisis of confidence. I had decided I could do this on my own, whether my mother helped or not—but now I was asking myself if I should. My father abandoning me shaped my entire life. Would my baby feel that pain too? I didn’t know if I could subject another generation to that trauma. I decided I would share the news with Ted. I would tell him he had a choice too. He could decide to be a part of the baby’s life or he would have to promise to stay away forever.

Ted saw different choices.

ADAM

Mira looks like a mirage. She stands before us, beginning her story, and she’s as stunning as she was ten years ago. Her skin is like porcelain, milky white, as if it hasn’t seen the sun in a decade. Her dark thick hair reaches to the belly button I once kissed. She’s an optical illusion summoned by the harsh atmospheric conditions. At one point, I actually rub my eyes like a total cliché.

But as she continues to talk, my horror grows. I’m in stunned disbelief that Ted tried to steal my girl. I’d told him I wasn’t in love, and he knew I was choosing Aimee when I ran after her and left Mira—Andi—with him, but would he really stoop so low?

As if in response to my question, Ted scoffs at Andi. “Don’t believe a word out of her mouth. I’ve never seen this woman before in my life,” he says, his eyes locked on Margot.