A dark circular birthmark with uneven edges. Exactly where my mother had one I’d been seeing my whole life.

My hand shook as I pointed at it.

“That mark. Why do you have the same one?” My voice came out unsteady no matter how hard I tried to hold it.

Eleanor closed her eyes and took a small step back, bracing herself.

“Because I can’t keep this hidden anymore,” she whispered, and her voice broke under the weight of it.

The room stopped feeling like a celebration and started feeling like a trap closing around me. I understood, in that second, that everything I believed was about to come down.