GwenCamilla left ten minutes later. She kissed my mother’s cheek softly near the doorway, spoke in gentle reassuring tones, then glided back toward her waiting car with the same composed elegance she wore everywhere.Irregardless, I had seen the panic she so dearly, tried to conceal. Not because she feared exposure immediately. It was because she was losing emotional certainty. And people like Camilla depended on certainty the way normal people depended on oxygen.The front doors closed behind her and a heavy silence flooded the foyer instantly. My mother stood motionless near the staircase, arms folded tightly around herself as though holding something inside from spilling apart. “Mom,” I said carefully. “I’m tired.” The words came too quickly. Prepared and defensive. My chest tightened. “You were crying.” “No.” The denial arrived automatically.I stared at her quietly. She used to hate dishonesty. When we were children, she once made Sebastian apologize to me for lying about breaki
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