Sonia’s POV
Few weeks later…
Birthdays used to be simple.
They used to mean cake with melting icing, my mother’s voice singing off-key, my father pretending to film the whole thing on his old camcorder even though the red light never worked. I used to think birthdays were the days you were meant to feel most seen.
But this one, my twenty-second, felt nothing like that.
The morning came with a soft drizzle, the kind that made the world smell faintly like wet earth and roses from the garden. I woke up earlier than usual, unable to fall back asleep. My heart was restless, humming with emotions I couldn’t quite name, grief, nostalgia, maybe even a trace of hope.
Clara had been fussing all week, whispering to the house staff, making mysterious phone calls, and decorating the sitting room
