Chapter 11 · free to read
Yuna had grown up in this garden believing it was hers. She walked up it that evening as a guest.
It was not the cruelty that decided her. It was hearing her own childhood described, accurately, as somebody else's motivational tool.
It had been in the family albums for seventeen years. Nobody had ever looked at the back of the frame.
By Friday she had lost the house, the name, and the allowance. She had also, for the first time in twenty-nine years, cost somebody something.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.