Chapter 1 - The Cold Welcome
The brass doorknob was cold beneath Sarah’s trembling hand. She took a deep, centering breath, feeling the gentle flutter of her unborn baby kick against her ribs. For you, she whispered to herself. I’m doing this for you.
With a soft creak, the heavy oak door swung open, revealing the dimly lit foyer of her childhood home. It smelled exactly the same—a suffocating mixture of lavender polish, old books, and damp floorboards.
"So, you finally decided to crawl back," a sharp, icy voice echoed from the shadows of the parlor.
Sarah stiffened. Standing there, draped in her signature emerald silk robe, was her mother, Helena. At sixty, Helena still held the posture of a ruthless queen, her eyes scanning Sarah’s swollen belly with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.
"Hello, Mother," Sarah said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. "I didn't crawl back. I came to talk. I want to clear the air before the baby arrives. I want us to be a family again."
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Helena let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "A family? After you ran away five years ago and left me to clean up the mess you made? You think a pregnancy magically erases the past, Sarah? You always were hopelessly naive."
The words cut deep, but Sarah stood her ground. She knew coming here would be a minefield, but she hadn’t expected the landmines to detonate the second she stepped inside. Before she could reply, a sudden gust of wind slammed the front door shut behind her, the lock clicking shut with an ominous finality.
