Gemotions

The antique music box sat on the dusty table, its painted cherubs looking down with silent smiles. Elara ran a hand across the faded wood, a shiver chasing up her spine. The melody, a familiar lullaby, tinkled softly as she wound the key. Her fingers trembled slightly, tracing the delicate carvings. The DNA results had arrived this morning, confirming what she’d secretly feared and hoped for. She wasn’t a Miller.

She leaned closer, the scent of lavender and old paper clinging to the air. Her biological mother’s name, scrawled on the accompanying letter, felt like a breath of wind against her cheek. This music box had been a gift from her adoptive mother, a woman whose absence now felt like a gaping wound.

A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. The tune wound down, the silence amplifying the echo in her chest.