The prison gates loomed like cold steel teeth against the gray morning sky. I hesitated at the threshold, my chest tight, stomach twisting. Years of hurt, betrayal, and silence had led to this—my mother, finally facing the consequences.

The guard waved me through without a word. The hallway smelled faintly of disinfectant and metal, echoing every step I took like it was shouting at me. My hands clutched the strap of my bag; my nails dug into my palms as if grounding me to the here and now.

When I saw her sitting in the visiting room, neatly dressed in gray, hands folded on the table, she looked… smaller than...