Morning came with a thin mist hanging over the small town.
Evelyn had been in the sewing room since sunrise. Her feet slowly worked the pedal of the sewing machine while both hands straightened the seams on the dress she was working on.
Her movements looked normal. Calm, orderly, and unhurried.
But Sarah knew her mother better than anyone.
She knew something was different. Ever since the woman named Mercy had arrived the night before, Evelyn had grown quieter.
Several times, Sarah caught her mother daydreaming as she stared out the window.
Even the breakfast that was usually ready on the table first thing in the morning still hadn't been finished.
"Mom."
Sarah's voice made Evelyn start. "Hm?"
"The seam is inside out."
Evelyn looked down. The thread she had just sewn was indeed on the wrong side.
She immediately removed the fabric from the machine.
"I wasn't focused."
Sarah pulled out a chair and sat across from her.
"That's not because you weren't focused."
Evelyn didn't answer. Sarah picked up a cup of tea that was still steaming.
"Did that woman last night bring trouble?"
"No."
"You know her?"
"Not really."
The answer sounded strange. Last night, Evelyn had said that Mercy was merely someone who had come to the wrong address. Now, she admitted that she knew her. Sarah began to feel that something was being hidden from her.
Ever since she was little, she had been used to accepting the fact that her mother never told her much.
While her friends knew the stories of their parents' childhoods, Sarah knew nothing about Evelyn's life before they moved to that town.
She had never heard stories about her grandparents. She had never seen a family photograph. She didn't even know where her mother had been born.
Back then, she had considered none of it important. Now, everything felt different.
"Where are you from, Mom?"
The question made Evelyn stop working.
"I've answered that before."
"No, you haven't."
"We've talked about it."
Sarah shook her head. "No, we haven't."
Evelyn set the scissors on the table.
"Why are you suddenly asking that?"
"Because I want to know."
"You don't need to worry about my past."
"But I'm your daughter."
Silence filled the room. The sound of the sewing machine that usually dominated the house had now disappeared.
Sarah studied her mother's face. There was something there. Fear. Not fear caused by the arrival of a stranger. Nor fear that someone had come bearing bad news. This was a deeper fear. A fear that had lived inside her for a very long time.
"Were you married before?"
The question came out before she could stop it. Evelyn stared at her.
"Why are you asking that?"
"I don't know who my father is."
Evelyn's face suddenly tightened. "That's enough."
"No. It isn't."
Sarah rarely argued with her. But she was tired of accepting answers that went nowhere.
"I never asked all these years because I respected you. I thought you'd tell me when you were ready."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Why?"
"Not everything needs to be known."
Sarah let out a breath.
"That's your past. I understand. But it's also part of my life."
Evelyn stood. She carried the fabric she had been working on to the storage shelf. Her movements looked restless.
"Your father has been gone for a long time."
"What's his name?"
There was no answer.
"Is he still alive?"
Evelyn continued to face away from her.
"Answer me, Mom."
"Sarah."
Her voice sounded tired.
"I don't want to talk about this."
Sarah rose from her chair.
"The woman who came last night knows you. She knows your name. She brought something that kept you from sleeping. Don't tell me everything is fine, because I can see that it isn't."
Evelyn closed her eyes. Her chest felt tight. She wanted to say so many things. She wanted to explain everything. She wanted to tell her about a place called Black Hollow. About a child she had once held in her arms. About the night that changed her entire life. But the words never managed to come out.
"I only wanted to protect you."
Sarah looked at her mother. "Protect me from what?"
Evelyn didn't answer. Sarah took the coat hanging near the door.
"If you don't want to tell me, that's okay."
"Sarah."
"I'm going to the store."
The front door closed. Evelyn remained standing where she was. Her gaze fell on the old cabinet in the corner of the room. Inside it was a wooden box containing things from the life she had kept hidden all this time.
She walked closer. Her hand touched the surface of the cabinet. For years, she had believed that she had succeeded in building a new life.
A small house. Simple work. A daughter she loved dearly.
She had thought all of it would be enough to bury the past.
But that morning, she began to realize something. The house she had built all these years stood on secrets. And secrets, in the end, always found a way to rise to the surface.
Outside the house, Sarah's footsteps grew more distant. Inside, Evelyn stood alone with the fear she had kept hidden all this time.
She knew those questions would come again. And when that time came, she wasn't sure she would still be able to maintain the lie she had built over the past twenty years.