Chapter 119
We Must Greet Them
We were still waiting.
At first, the silence was careful. Polite. The kind that pretends nothing is wrong. Then it thinned. It tightened. It stopped waiting and started being judgmental. The music had ended without anyone noticing. Teacups sat untouched. Dresses brushed against chairs as people shifted and restless. Someone cleared their throat, sharp and loud, and no one laughed it off.
Mother stood by the window with her back to the room. She had been there so long it felt as if she'd become part of the house, another piece of furniture no one dared move. Her spine was straight, but not effortless. Each minute pressed into her, slow and heavy. She didn't bend, but I could see the strain in the way her shoulders held, the way her fingers curled and uncurled against the curtain.
Behind her, the room had begun to change.
