Epilogue
Megra
We stand quietly in front of my mother’s gravestone, feeling the earth beneath my feet solid and cool, like an anchor to this moment. The air is still, the sky washed in muted shades of grey as though the world is holding its breath with me. My eyes trace the familiar letters etched into the smooth stone:
**Iris Adams** **Loving Mother, Wife, Daughter, and Sister.**
The words feel heavier than usual today, each title pulling me back into memories I’ve spent years trying to bury. There’s something so final about seeing her name like this. My mother. The one person who was always there for me, always strong, always protecting me. And yet, she carried so many secrets. I think about the life she left behind to raise me on her own—the family I only just found out about. All that time, it was just the two of us. She gave up so much, not for herself but for me.
A gust of wind stirs the leaves around the graveyard, and I close my eyes, letting the cool air brush against my ski
