I stayed in the garden
long after my mother went inside.
The air felt heavy,
like it knew the weight I carried,
the truth I buried
In the rosemary she planted.

She was my swan.
Pretty and innocent-
or so I thought.
She moved through life
with an elegance I didn’t question,
a beauty I was too blind to doubt.
And me?
I was the fool who taught the swan
how to cheat.

I gave her trust,
love,
freedom.
And she took it all,
used it to hide her lies
In a veil,
I never saw through it—
not until it was too late.

It was a letter.
Not meant for me.
Folded neatly,
tucked between the pages
of her favorite book.
His name was there.
His words were there.
Words I had never written.
Words I could never take back.

I remember confronting her,
the way her face changed—
how quickly...