DANTE

I pinch the bridge of my nose, leaning against the cold marble of my bathroom counter. The steam from the aborted shower curls around me, but I barely register it.

"Mama..."

She cuts me off gently. "I know you hate it when I pry. But I'm your mother. And I want to see you happy before I go."

Her tone is softer now, threaded with something heavier beneath the teasing.

I close my eyes. The pain in my heart, it feels like a knife is being pierced in there. She's said this so many ...