Chapter 3

After I settled into the guest room, my mother knocked.

"May I come in?" She sat by the window. "I know you loved your old room. Sophie staying there does not mean we think she is more important. The social worker just thought she needed continuity during the evaluation."

"I understand."

She had come ready for a fight. My calm threw her off. She looked around the room.

“We can redo this entire floor,” she said. “New furniture, a private bathroom, whatever you want. Honestly, Eva, you may end up with the better space.”

She knew I had chosen every piece in my old room with my grandmother. She still thought anything could be replaced if she spent enough money.

“No, thank you.”

Her mouth tightened. “Then don’t keep acting as if we took something from you when you’re refusing everything we offer.”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

She waited, as if she expected more. When I said nothing, she stood.

“Fine. But I’m not going to feel guilty when you’re the one choosing to be unhappy.”

After the door closed, laughter drifted up from downstairs. My father was telling Sophie about her new school. My mother was asking about uniform colors. They sounded like they had been a family for years.

In my previous life, I had waited for them to treat me that way. I would pick fights, then wait for them to come to me. I thought if I hurt enough, eventually they would understand. Now I knew they never would. The laughter still pulled at my chest.

I opened my laptop. Three months of missed classes. Instead of dissecting every sound from downstairs, I needed to figure out my coursework and college deadlines. I poured myself into school and stopped engaging with my parents and Sophie.

The next time my mother confronted me was Sophie's seventeenth birthday.

Sophie had told them her grandmother was poor, that she had never really celebrated birthdays. My mother threw her a dinner party with a private chef and photographer. She made a photo album documenting Sophie's new life.

That same day, social services approved the temporary guardianship. For my parents, the party was Sophie's official welcome.

I came home late from SAT prep. They were cutting the cake. Sophie sat between my parents, my mother's hand on her shoulder. When she saw me, her smile faded. She put down the cake, glanced at my mother.

My mother noticed. "Sophie? What is wrong?"

“Nothing. I just wasn’t sure Eva would want to see everyone celebrating the guardianship.”

My mother turned to me. “Did something happen at school?”

“No.”

Her expression hardened. “You always know how to make a room uncomfortable without saying a word.”

I almost laughed bitterly. “I just walked in.”

In my previous life, she would have assumed I’d bullied Sophie. This time, even my attempt to defend myself became evidence against me.

“I haven’t threatened her. I haven’t gossiped about her. I haven’t interfered with the guardianship. We’ve spoken twice at school in the last week.”

“You haven’t said anything cruel because you know we would call you out on it. So now you walk into a room, go cold, and make Sophie feel guilty for being here.”

Sophie sat with her head down, twisting her hands in her lap. She did not deny it.

“So even when I say nothing, you’ve already decided what I mean.”

“Silence can hurt too,” my mother said. “This is Sophie’s home now. She should not have to study your face every time you enter a room to know whether she’s allowed to feel welcome.”

“Her feeling safe cannot depend on me performing happiness for her.”