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Getting ready to face my father felt like preparing for a battle I wasn’t sure I could win. I adjusted the conservative jacket I’d chosen and brushed my hair back into a sleek ponytail. Every detail mattered.
Edward waited patiently by the door, his hat in hand, looking both apprehensive and composed. “You’re sure he’ll talk to us?”
“No,” I admitted, pulling on my coat. “But we have to try.”
“My mom had Alzheimer’s,” I explained, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “It started while she was pregnant with me. Her memory was… unpredictable. Some days, she’d know exactly who I was. Other days, she’d look at me like I was a stranger.”
Edward nodded solemnly. “That must have been hard for you.”
Edward didn’t say much, but his presence was grounding. When we reached the cinema, I hesitated before opening the door to Thomas’s office.