Chapter 241

• I knocked lightly on the door before I stepped inside. My mother was already seated at the kitchen table, a small pot of tea steaming between us and a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth that smelled faintly of warmth and home. She looked up, and her face softened as if she had been expecting me all along.
• I set my bag by the counter and slid into the chair across from her. The table was worn in the middle from years of elbows, knives, and plates, yet to me it felt almost sacred. She poured the tea, steady as ever, and pushed a cup toward me without saying a word.
• The quiet stretched, not heavy, just full. For the first time in what felt like forever, I did not feel the need to rush into explanations or defenses. I simply wrapped my hands around the cup, inhaled the steam, and allowed the moment to be what it was.