It was a photo album.
A soft layer of dust covered the leather cover, and in the center, the initials D. P. were pressed in gold—Daisy Parker. Her mother.
Lilith's chest tightened.
She slowly walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down.
With quiet hands, she opened the album.
The first photo was of a young girl—her mother, Daisy. She was smiling, standing in front of a college gate, her hair tied up in a playful ponytail, wearing a blue dress and holding a stack of books. Her eyes… they looked so familiar. Lilith touched the edge of the photo, feeling something ache deep inside her.
Page after page revealed glimpses of a life once filled with laughter, youth, and dreams. Daisy with her friends—laughing over ice cream, celebrating birthdays, posing under cherry blossom trees.
And then, a photo that made Lilith pause.
Daisy standing next to a man whose face had been torn away.
