The room sat cloaked in silence—a silence not of peace, but of something darker, heavier. Shadows crept along the corners, curling like tendrils of a past too painful to speak aloud. And within those shadows, something had shattered.
Something sacred.
Lena had spoken only moments ago, but the weight of her revelation still pressed against the air like a scream that hadn’t yet found its voice.
The soft amber hue of the side lamp bathed Steward’s weary features in gold, catching the lines that time and loss had carved deep into his face. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, his hands hanging loosely between them—steady, but only just. Across from him, Mrs. Jackson sat ramrod straight, her spine stiff with tension, as though her body might break under the weight of what she now k
