(Karen’s POV – Present Tense)

The drive to my mother’s house feels endless.

The city outside is washed in gray, traffic lights bleeding into puddles, clouds hanging low like they know something I don’t. The birth certificate lies folded on the passenger seat beside me, a single sheet of paper that’s somehow heavier than everything Yasmin’s ever done.

I grip the steering wheel tighter. My pulse hasn’t slowed since I opened that email. The name written under Father still burns ...