The truck rocked slightly as it rumbled down the uneven road, its old suspension groaning with every bump. Scarlett sat stiffly in the back seat, her gaze darting to the woman beside her. Ellen Madison, alive and breathing, stared at her daughter with a mixture of wonder and guilt. The silence between them was heavy, almost unbearable.
Ellen finally broke it, her voice trembling as she reached out a hand. "I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered, her fingers brushing Scarlett's cheek.
Scarlett flinched slightly at the touch, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over her. The part of her that had longed for this moment wrestled with the bitterness of years lost.
"I buried you," Scarlett said, her voice barely audible.
Ellen's hand dropped, and her expression turned somber. "I know. I was there—watching from a distance. It was the only way to keep you safe."
Scarlett frowned, her mind spinning. "Safe from what?"
