Mara grew up believing that love was proven through sacrifice. It was never spoken aloud, but it shaped everything she saw and felt. Love meant giving things up quietly, without complaint, and expecting nothing in return. Her mother lived this belief so fully that Mara never questioned it, assuming that devotion always required loss and that someone, somewhere, had to come second.
Their home was modest and careful. Money was stretched, not wasted, and affection appeared in practical forms rather than words. Mara’s mother worked relentlessly, mending what could be fixed and planning around what could not. Love showed itself in packed lunches, repaired coats, and steady presence. Eliza, Mara’s younger sister, moved through this world differently, bright and fearless, while Mara carried caution like a second skin.
