Later, when the world had decided who to believe, Evelyn knocked quietly.
Nadia opened the door. Her eyes red. Her movements slow.
No security. No cameras. Just the two women in a sterile, high-rise prison.
“I didn’t know,” Nadia whispered.
“I know,” Evelyn said.
She crossed the room, elegant and composed.
“You want to know if it was all a lie?” Evelyn asked.
Nadia nodded.
“I met him at your age. Twenty-four. He said I was the only one who saw him. He said he was trapped. That I was his freedom.”
Nadia’s knees buckled. She sat without meaning to.
“When I got pregnant, he said it wasn’t the right time. He made me believe the future depended on silence.”
Nadia’s tears spilled.
Evelyn’s voice didn’t rise. “You’re not my enemy. You’re the next version of me.”
