I don't think I like what I'm digging up.
Anna sighed as she stepped out of the car, offering a brief nod to the driver who held the door open for her. Her meeting with Aunt Lillian had gone even better than anticipated, but despite the success, a heavy, unsettling weight coiled deep in her stomach, refusing to budge.
When she brought down both Susanne and Marienne, Anna had felt a fleeting sense of relief—strange, almost surreal. It was as though a cold, soaked blanket had finally been lifted from her shoulders, freeing her movements and letting her breathe a little easier.
But Aunt Lillian was different. She was tightly entangled with Anna's father—her roots deeply knotted into the very foundation of his life. And the more of that life Anna uncovered, the more suffocating it became. It felt as though every revelation came with another thick, grimy layer of guilt and revulsion, wrapping around her like a shroud.
