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Part 4: All the Names We BuriedThe day after the mirror shattered, Claire began to forget simple things.Where she parked the car.What she said five minutes ago.The names of street signs she used to pass every day.She told herself it was stress. Exhaustion. Postpartum fog. But deep down, something colder whispered the truth — she was being erased, one fragile memory at a time.Elara, meanwhile, had begun to speak in fragments.At first it was nothing. Baby babble. Gurgles.Then one afternoon, while Claire fed her in silence, Elara looked up and said:“Ashes don’t cry, mama.”Claire dropped the spoon.---The therapist Claire