The silence stretches between us, heavy with years of pain neither of us chose.

"Evelyn." I keep my voice soft, careful—the way one approaches a wounded animal. "I don't want to take anything from you. I never did."

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. Just broken glass and bitter tears.

"I'm not your enemy," I continue, taking a slow step forward. "Whatever you believe about me, whatever you've convinced yourself I'm here to do—it's not true. We share the same ...