GwenNobody spoke after that. Not immediately. Because Kayla’s words lingered in the room like smoke after a fire. "She smells like him." My mother looked horrified. Not confused or uncertain anymore.Camilla recovered first, naturally, but I saw it now. The recovery itself had become slower. More deliberate. Like she was calculating six different exits inside her head at once. “A child associating scents with trauma is hardly evidence,” she said smoothly.Miguel gave her a look so cold it almost surprised me. “As a pediatric specialist,” he replied calmly, “I’d advise against dismissing trauma imprinting so casually.” Camilla’s jaw tightened almost invisibly. Miguel rarely entered these psychological battles directly. He usually stayed near Kayla, grounding her, protecting her from adult chaos. But today? Today even he looked done pretending.Kayla pressed herself against Adrian’s side while clutching her rabbit tightly. I saw Camilla notice it again. That attachment. That unwavering
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