Elana stepped out of the restroom and froze when she saw a familiar woman standing there, uncertainty in her stance and hesitation in her eyes.
"Mother?" Elana asked calmly. The earlier frustration and hurt had faded after her long conversation with her professor and the tenderness her brother had shown her.
"Elana..." Natasha called softly, but then she fell silent.
She lowered her gaze, choosing her words carefully before speaking.
"I won't try to explain myself. It would only make things worse."
"No, please," Elana insisted. "Tell me what you meant back then. Professor Adrian said you were worried about me, but I want to hear it from you, Mother."
Her calmness felt strangely out of place in the tension filling the room.
Natasha let out a slow sigh and spoke in a resigned voice. "Do you doubt what he said, dear? Do you think your mother would ever worry about anything more than her own flesh and blood?"
