Serena’s POV
“Can we talk?”
Her voice was soft, not the tone I expected. I didn’t answer right away. I was still staring at the open door, unsure if I’d imagined her standing there, dressed simply, her hair pinned back, no guards in sight. Mirah looked like she’d rehearsed this moment ten times and still wasn’t sure how to play it.
I stepped aside without a word.
She walked in.
My mother rose from the couch the moment she saw her, every line in her face tight. I felt the tension coil in my shoulders too, but I kept my voice steady.
“What do you want?”
Mirah didn’t sit. She stood in the middle of the room, as if she knew she didn’t quite belong. “I’m not here to fight,” she said. “I came to… apologize.”
I raised a brow. I didn’t say anything. Neither did Ma.
Mirah clasped her hands
