As I sat there, sipping my coffee, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. The faces around the table were new and unfamiliar, yet there was a warmth in their glances—a kind of acceptance I hadn’t expected to feel. Lydia had spoken about finding my place, and maybe, for the first time, I actually believed it might be possible.
I kept my gaze low, pretending to be absorbed in my cup, but I was keenly aware of the soft conversations buzzing around me. Sitting here with these people who didn’t know anything about me felt strange. They didn’t know the weight of my past, the blood on my hands, the secrets I carried. I wondered how long I could keep it that way before the shadows of my past caught up to me. But for now, at least, I could exist in this quiet bubble of anonymity.
“Esmeralda,” Ly
