Chapter 615: The Garden That Remembered Before It Happened
A month later, Sophia learned how to forget on purpose.
It was not the gentle kind of forgetting that came with sleep or distraction.
But the kind that required effort—quiet repetition, deliberate burial, like placing stones over something still breathing beneath the ground until even the memory stopped struggling.
She did not think of the people anymore.
Not the screams.
Not the blood.
Not the way her mother's presence had filled the room afterward. The thoughts didn't come anymore after one month. It didn't hurt her anymore, and it was like she never met them.
What remained instead was simpler and safer.
Her mother's voice.
Her mother's approval.
Her mother's correction.
And above all else—the colour of her mother's hair.
It was black and perfect.
A standard Sophia quietly began to measure herself against.
Her own hair remained a problem that refused to obey.
