Serena’s POV
“Who is he?”
The question slipped out quieter than I intended, but the weight behind it was heavier than anything else in the room, and once it hung in the air, there was no pulling it back.
Ma froze at the table where she was folding Ari’s shirts, her hands stilled mid-motion as if the fabric itself had stopped her. She didn’t answer, didn’t look at me, just kept her eyes fixed on the soft cotton in her lap as though silence could erase the truth waiting in my words.
“I asked you a question,” I pressed, moving closer to her, my voice sharper now though still trembling at the edges. “Who is my father?”
Still nothing, only the sound of the clock on the wall ticking far too loud.
“Tell me. We have avoided this topic for ages and its height time we talked about it”
At last
