LEMUEL

I stood outside mother's door for a moment, my knuckles resting against the polished wood.

My heart raced not from fear, but from frustration. The situation was spiraling out of control. I knocked once ,the sound echoing down the quiet hallway. Her cool voice called me to enter.

I stepped inside, finding her as I expected, she was standing by the window with a wine flute in her hand. Her posture was tense, her fingers lightly gripping the delicate glass and her sharp gaze locked on the Packhouse grounds, I knew she was thinking about something.

She didn't turn to face me immediately, but I could feel the weight...