The house still smelled like their father: pipe smoke and cold coffee. Mara, Theo, and Diane stood in the hallway together for the first time in nine years. Nobody spoke. Then Theo bumped the old record cabinet and the back panel slid loose. Behind it sat a hidden shelf, and on it were dozens of cassette tapes, each one labeled in their father's tight handwriting.

Theo read the labels one by one, and his face went pale. "These aren't just notes," he whispered. He held one up with a shaking hand. "This one says 'Mom - the real story.' This one says 'The money.' And this one says 'Diane - what I did.' We have to pick one."

Diane snatched the tape with her own name and shoved it in before she could change her mind. Their father's voice came out small and ashamed. "Diane, I made you keep my secrets when you were just a kid. I'm sorry I put that on you." Diane's hands started to shake as forgotten memories crawled back to the surface.

When her siblings came in, Diane was waiting with the tape. "He used me," she said, and finally let herself cry. "All those years I thought I was just bad at remembering. He made me forget on purpose." Mara pulled her into a hug. "Then we remember it together now. You're not carrying it alone anymore."