When a Child Speaks of the Sky
"Mother," Victor said, slowly, deliberately, "listen to me first."
The words slipped out calm, but the weight behind them made the air shift. Anna reacted instantly—like someone had reached inside her and flipped a switch. Her whole body stilled, her shoulders easing as if bracing for something sacred. Every bit of her attention narrowed to him alone. Her eyes softened, warm and steady, as though the rest of the world had fallen away and only her son existed.
"Yes, son," she breathed out, gentle and absolute. "Always. Tell me anything you want me to hear."
Victor drew in a slow breath, deep enough to steady the storm inside him. His pulse thudded against his ribs, hot and insistent. His palms felt warm, almost trembling, as years of unspoken thoughts and two lifetimes of pressure gathered behind a single moment. He met her gaze and didn't look away.
