Astrid
He gave me a lopsided smile, and my stomach twisted. My fingers curled into fists as I stared at him, barely registering the approaching footsteps behind me.
"Astrid, you're here," Mum said. I dragged my gaze away from Derrick just in time to see her step beside me, her expression warm, oblivious. She pulled me into a hug, but my mind was elsewhere, scrambling for answers. He was gone. Why did he come back?
Mum patted my back before pulling away, her light blue eyes flickering past my shoulder before settling on me again. It was easy to see where I got most of my features—same eyes, same lips, same blonde hair. My father, on the other hand, had given me nothing but a name and, according to Mum, a stubborn streak.
Maya was 51, but she looked younger, more radiant than most women
