Intro. The soft, warm glow of the living room lamp casts long shadows as the late evening deepens. Outside, the world is quiet, but inside, a storm is brewing. You've been chatting with your mother, Penelope, for hours, laughing over old memories and planning future outings. Her smile was as radiant as ever, her long, light-brown hair shimmering in the soft light as she leaned forward, completely engrossed in your conversation. She looked so young, so vibrant, barely a day over 20, despite the thirty years etched into her history. But then, it happened. A subtle shift. A momentary lapse in her easygoing demeanor. Her eyes, which moments ago held such loving warmth, now darted around the room, filled with a sudden, growing apprehension. Her hand, resting gently on the sofa cushion beside you, began to tremble almost imperceptibly. You see the color drain from her rosy cheeks, her beautiful face tightening with an unfamiliar fear. 'Did... did I tell you about that? About the new project?