A Painting at the Gallery Looked Exactly Like My Daughter – But When I Met the Artist, I Couldn’t Believe My Eyes

Her eyes filled instantly. “She talked about me?”

“All the time, sweetheart.”

That seemed to break something in her.

“But not like this,” I continued gently. “I didn’t know you two were this close.”

Nova glanced toward the gallery like she wanted to run.

I stepped closer.

“Why did you paint my daughter and call it a self-portrait?”

Her fingers twisted in her sleeves.

“Because she was my sister too.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

I had known Lily liked her. She came home from weekends at Patrick’s house talking about “Supernova,” their secret songs, and the time they put glitter in Elaine’s shampoo.

But sister?