Her father’s voice joined in, firmer. “You’re tired. You’ve just had a baby. Don’t invent ghosts.” Their words dripped with dismissal, but she caught the hesitation in his pause. He was covering up something. She hung up trembling, certain now that the truth lived in what they refused to say.
That night, she sat awake with her journal, scribbling furiously. “Everyone is lying,” she wrote, her hand aching from the force of her pen. “This scar means something, and I will find out what. I won’t let them gaslight me into silence.” Tears blurred the ink. The unanswered questions circled tighter, leading her toward a confrontation she no longer feared.