Three days of preparation, and I'm still not ready.Elena destroys another napkin across from me, tearing it into precise strips like she's performing surgery. Her hands won't stay still."Stop." I cover her hand before she can start on the next one. "Breathe.""I'm breathing." But she's not. Not properly."They're your parents, Elena. Not a firing squad.""You don't know my mother." She drains half her water glass, ice clinking. "She smiled at Julian exactly once. Right before asking if he'd filed his taxes properly.""Did he?""No. She knew before she asked. She always knows."The implication settles in my chest like lead. Every answer I've practiced for three days suddenly feels inadequate."That won't save you," Elena says, watching condensation blur the tablecloth. "Not after what you—"The door opens.Patricia Sinclair enters first—burgundy silk, pearls, scanning the restaurant like a general assessing a battlefield. Carlos follows in his gray sport coat.They spot us.My lungs
Last Updated : 2025-12-01 Read more