After the funeral, the house felt empty.
Every object reminded me of her.
And then… my mother showed up.
“Please,” she said. “I just need to talk.”
“Talk.”
“Your brother knows about you.”
My breath caught.
“He found out from your grandmother… before she passed.”
Then she admitted everything.
She had erased me.
“I told her if she talked about you, she’d never see him again.”
I felt sick.
“I thought I was doing the right thing—”
“You had a family,” I cut her off. “You decided I wasn’t part of it.”
Then she said what she really wanted.
“He won’t speak to me. I need you to talk to him. Tell him I’m not a monster.”
I laughed hollowly.
“Not a monster?”
But I agreed to one thing.
Not for her.
For him.
