Serafina's POV

The house was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that settled in the bones and wrapped itself around every corner. It had been a few days since my parents had found me again, since I'd finally allowed myself to come back into their arms. And though I felt a fraction of relief in their presence, the truth was that I wasn't sure how to move forward. The pain of what had happened still gnawed at me, still clung to my skin. It was as though I couldn't shake the weight of everything, even in the comfort of their home.

I sat by the window, looking out at the garden. The garden, once full of life, now felt like a world I could only observe from a distance. The green leaves fluttered in the breeze, the sunlight dappling the ground in patches. It was peaceful, and yet I couldn't shake the heaviness in my chest.

The sound of soft footsteps behind me startled me, and I turned to see my mother standing in the doorway, her expression gentle yet concerned. She had always been a constant in my life, even when I didn't know how to appreciate it. But now, with everything that had happened, it felt like I was seeing her with new eyes.

"Mamma," I whispered, almost too softly to hear.

She smiled softly, stepping closer, her hands folding together in front of her. "You've been quiet today," she noted, her voice careful, as if testing the waters to see how I would respond.

I didn't know what to say. There was so much I wanted to say, but words seemed inadequate. How could I explain the storm inside of me, the whirlwind of emotions that had no place to go? How could I tell her how lost I felt, even surrounded by the people who loved me most?

"Are you okay?" she asked, sitting next to me by the window.

I blinked away the tears that suddenly stung my eyes. I hated the vulnerability, the weakness of it. But in her presence, it felt safe to be weak, to let the walls come down.

"I don't know anymore," I admitted quietly. "I don't feel okay."

She reached out and gently took my hand in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's okay to not feel okay, tesoro," she murmured. "We don't expect you to be fine right away. Healing takes time, and it's not something you can rush."

Her words wrapped around me like a blanket, and for a moment, I felt as though the world had softened. I leaned against her, my head resting on her shoulder. Her scent—soft, floral, and familiar—was a comfort, a reminder of the mother who had always been there, even when I had pushed her away.

"I feel so broken, Mamma," I whispered. "I feel like I'm never going to be the same again."

She sighed softly, brushing my hair away from my face. "Fina," she said gently, "you may never be the same again. But that doesn't mean you can't be whole. You're not broken. You're hurt. And we will heal that together."

I wanted to believe her. I really did. But how could I, when every part of me felt shattered? When every moment of peace was tainted by the echoes of the past?

"I don't know how to do this," I said, my voice shaking.

My mother tightened her grip on my hand, her other hand rubbing my back comfortingly. "You don't have to have all the answers, tesoro. You just have to take it one step at a time. And when you're ready, we'll be here to help you through it."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I believed her yet. But in that moment, I felt the smallest glimmer of hope—the faintest sense that maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward.

"I'm scared, Mamma," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Her hand stroked my back gently, her voice soft and steady. "It's okay to be scared, darling. We've all been there. And no matter what happens, we'll walk through this together."

I leaned into her further, letting myself feel the weight of her love, her strength. I was still broken, still lost in so many ways, but her presence, her steady reassurance, made me believe I could find my way again.

For now, that was enough.