AMELIA

"I'm Bertha," she said, her tone friendly but with a hint of something I couldn't quite place. "And you must be Amelia. It's nice to finally meet you," She smiled, holding out a hand and further deepening my confused state.

Before I could respond, heavy footsteps approached, and my father appeared behind Bertha. The change in his demeanor was so jarring it made me blink in disbelief. Gone was the broken man I'd glimpsed at the cemetery. Instead, his face was lit with a smile broader and more genuine than any I'd seen in years.

"Ah, Bertha! I see you found the room on your own," he said, his voice warm with affection. He placed a hand on her shoulder, the casual intimacy of the gesture making my stomach churn. "What do you think? It's the second largest bedroom in the house."

Bertha glanced around, taking in the pale blue walls, the window seat overlooking the garden, the bookshelf crammed with my favorite novels. "I like it," she declared with a nod. "Much better than the other one y