Roman

I’m not sure I’m going to be able to pry my mother’s arms away from Samara. As soon as we walk into my office, she pulls my mate onto a couch beside her, hugging her tightly again. My father stares at them then turns to me with a look that is equal parts relief and grief.

“Have a seat, Dad. This story isn’t a good one.”

My father and I pull up chairs, creating a small circle. I know the story is hard for Samara, so before I ask her to start, I tell my mom she has to let her go ...