My hand trembled when I pointed at her, unable to process what I was seeing.
“That brand, why do you have the same one?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my efforts to remain calm.
Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment and took a small step back, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say.
“Because I can’t keep hiding this anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of the truth.
At that moment the room stopped feeling like a place of celebration and began to feel like a trap closing in around me, and I realized that everything I believed in was about to collapse.
I didn’t sit down because my legs refused to obey me, while she sat down slowly on the edge of the bed as if years of silence had suddenly caught up with her.
“Twenty years ago I had a son,” he finally said, each word heavy and deliberate.
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