Nova's POV
I stood at the door, frozen. My fingers grazed the handle, but I couldn't bring myself to turn it.
She was still out there. I could feel her presence like a ghost tapping on the edges of my memories—unwelcome and haunting. My chest felt too small for my lungs. The air was tight, sharp like glass. Eldur stood silently behind me, close enough that I could feel the quiet heat radiating off his body.
"She's not worth this pain," he said gently. "You don't owe her anything."
"I know," I murmured, barely hearing myself. "But… I need to see her face. I need to know if she's even real."
He didn't argue. His hand found mine, rough yet warm, and gave the softest squeeze. I could feel the power behind it—barely restrained. Eldur was a storm disguised as a man, and yet right now, he was my stillness.
I finally opened the door.
And there she was.
Emily Beck. My mother. The woman who chose flashing cameras over bedtime stories, red carpets over scraped knees and dance recitals.
