There, bending over the sink in a simple cleaning uniform, was Ruth — the woman who had raised him with steady hands and unwavering patience. She turned slightly, and he could see she was tired in a way he had never seen before.
She looked up and smiled. But the smile was forced and a little shaky.
Before Ethan could speak, a voice called out from the living room.
“Ruth, the floors still need some attention. We have guests tomorrow.”
It was Clare, his fiancée.
Her tone was crisp and managerial — not what he expected in the home they shared. Something about it struck him immediately, but he set his reaction aside and focused on Ruth. She brushed off his concern with the same quiet grace that had guided his entire childhood.
But something was off. And he knew it.
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