Chapter 41: Her Mother’s Hands
The morning was quiet, but Tiania felt anything but calm. She sat on the edge of her bed, hands resting still in her lap, blanket draped across her knees. Her fingers twitched occasionally, as if the nerves inside her could sense the weight of what the day would bring. Outside, the wind rustled the garden trees gently. The same trees that had stood witness to her slow recovery now stood poised to observe something even deeper: a reckoning.
She had received the letter two nights ago. Folded, aged paper with her mother’s handwriting, still familiar after all these years. The words had been simple, but their meaning thundered in her chest:
*"I would like to see you, if you’ll let me. Not to explain, not to justify. Just to say I’m sorry."
Love, Mom.*
