The wind howled through the narrow alley as Yamari paced back and forth, her boots crunching against the gravel. She clutched her cloak tightly around her shoulders, the chill biting into her skin. Beside her, Benjamin stood silently, the flickering light of the lantern casting long shadows over his weathered face.

"Benjamin," Yamari said, her voice barely above a whisper. She stopped pacing and turned to him. "Can I see the letter?"

His brow furrowed, his hand instinctively moving to the pocket where the folded parchment rested. "The letter?" he echoed cautiously.

"Yes," she said firmly, her gaze meeting his. "The one you've been carrying around like it holds the answer to everything. I need to see it."

Benjamin hesitated, his fingers twitching. But there was something in her eyes—a determination that mirrored someone he had once known. He sighed deeply, pulling the letter from his pocket and handing it to her.

"Just... be prepared," he murmured.

Yamari unfolded the parchment with trembling hands, her eyes scanning the elegant script. Her breath caught as the words painted a picture she hadn't expected. The letter was from her mother, a desperate plea to Benjamin—the man she had loved, the man with whom she had shared something forbidden.

"My dearest Benjamin,
I cannot continue this charade. He knows about us. The walls are closing in, and I fear for what he will do. If not for me, then for my children. I am leaving because I must protect them. Do not seek me out. Do not let him know we ever meant anything to each other. This is the only way to keep them safe."

Yamari's knees buckled, and she staggered back, her grip on the letter tightening. "My mother..." she said, her voice cracking. "She ran away because of this? Because of an affair? With you?"

Benjamin's silence was answer enough.

Her heart felt like it was being ripped apart. "She abandoned us," Yamari whispered, her voice shaking. "All of us. And for what? To save face? To escape the consequences of her own choices?"

Benjamin reached out, but she stepped back. "Amelia—"

"Stop calling me that!" she snapped, her anger boiling over. "Amelia is dead. She died in that house, suffocating under his lies and your secrets. I am Yamari now. And I wish I wasn't a part of this cursed family."

Benjamin's shoulders sagged under the weight of her words. "Your mother loved you. She loved all of you."

"Then why didn't she fight for us?" Yamari shot back. Her voice cracked again, and she hated the vulnerability it exposed. "Why are my siblings scattered to the wind, broken and alone? Why am I the one left to pick up the pieces?"

Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "She wasn't a mother," Yamari said bitterly. "She was a coward."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Benjamin looked like he wanted to say something, anything, but no words came. Yamari shoved the letter back into his hands and turned away.

Her mind raced with thoughts of her siblings—their faces blurred in her memory, but the pain of their absence was sharper than ever. Everything was broken. Irrevocably so. And now, the thought of meeting her mother didn't fill her with hope or determination. It filled her with dread.

As Yamari disappeared into the darkness, Benjamin stood frozen, the crumpled letter in his hand.