Freya stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat as the woman’s face became fully visible. The years had weathered her, and there were faint lines around her eyes and mouth that hadn't been there before. Her hair, once a shining auburn Freya had inherited, was streaked with gray beneath the shawl. But there was no mistaking her mother’s face.

Tears welled in Freya’s eyes before she could stop them. Her legs felt weak, and she reached out for the edge of the table nearby to steady herself. “It’s... it’s really you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Her mother’s lips trembled as her eyes filled with recognition. “Freya?”

The single...