Fiona let out a sound—half sob, half laugh. “You’re not angry?”
For the first time that day, the sun broke through the clouds, slanting gold across the graves. Fiona leaned her head on Rosa’s shoulder. mama fiona confession
“I am,” Fiona said, finally turning. Her face was wet, rain or tears, Rosa couldn’t tell. “But not by blood. Elena was seventeen when she had you. She was my daughter, Rosa. My only child. And she was so young, so scared. The father had vanished the moment he knew.” Fiona let out a sound—half sob, half laugh
“No,” Fiona said softly. “A fisherman pulled her out. But the Elena who came back was a ghost. She stopped speaking. Stopped holding you. One morning, I found her standing by the window, staring at nothing. She whispered, ‘Mama, take her. Be her mother. I am already gone.’” “I am,” Fiona said, finally turning