Esme bit her lip, a mix of confusion and disbelief etched across her face. "Who told you about my birthday?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt the weight of the question hang in the air, heavy and charged.
From what she understood, the world only recognized her earlier birthday—the one she had meticulously fabricated to shield herself from the truth.
Most often, she used the wedding date of Aron and Helga, a day filled with joy and new beginnings. It was a date she had intertwined with her own life—a tether to the present that helped her escape the haunting past.
Memories swirled in her mind, fragments of a life she wished to forget. After regaining her memories, Esme had refrained from revealing her true birthday to Aron and Helga, fearing their reaction to the darker truth that loomed behind it.
