The words sat in the room like something physical, heavy enough that Mira felt the air actually shift around them.
"Your fiancée," she repeated, because her mind refused to process the sentence any faster than that, one word at a time. "My mom was engaged to you."
"For almost a year," Marcus said quietly. "We were twenty. Young enough to think that meant we had the rest of our lives figured out."
Elena hadn't moved from the center of the room, coat still buttoned, hands twisted together in front of her in a way Mira had never once seen her mother do, not even the week her father packed a single bag and left without saying goodbye.
"Mom." Mira's voice cracked on the word. "Is this true."
Elena's eyes finally found hers, and something in them broke open, seventeen years of careful silen
