დ Rosalie დ
The next day, I stepped away from the office. Not because I wanted to. Because I had reached the point where every page I opened felt like it was pressing against my throat. My father’s drinking. My mother’s silence. Julian’s name. The years of payments. The work records. The old notes. It had all started to pile up in my head until I could no longer separate one ugly truth from the next.
So, I took a break.
At least, that was what I told myself. I made tea for my mother, heated up soup she barely touched, and then settled on the couch beside her with the television remote in my hand. She didn’t ask what I was doing. She only shifted beneath the blanket over her legs and looked at the screen as though that was easier than looking at me. I put on an old movie first. Something
