Chapter 4

Sophie's voice was soft. "Eva, would you like some cake?"

"No, thanks."

"You do not like chocolate?"

"I have a practice exam tomorrow. I just came for some books."

Sophie looked at my mother like she did not know whether to keep trying. My mother smiled at her, then turned serious when she looked at me.

“You came home just long enough to make sure Sophie noticed you were leaving. Don’t pretend that wasn’t deliberate.”

I placed a bookstore gift card on the table. "Sophie did not have access to college prep materials before. This is more useful than cake."

My mother pressed. "You can pick what you want for your own birthday." Then she stopped.

I looked at her. My birthday had already passed, during my last week on the show. My parents did not call. Neither of them realized I had turned eighteen.

My mother’s expression shifted. “You were filming. We weren’t allowed to contact you.”

“You didn’t need permission to remember the date.”

“And what do you want me to do now?” she snapped. “Sophie lost her grandmother that same week. Forgive me if your birthday wasn’t the only thing happening.”

“I don’t want you to do anything.”

“We can give you a dinner. A cake. Whatever it is you think you missed.”

“A late party won’t bring that birthday back.”

Her face hardened. “So that’s what this is? You’re going to hold one missed birthday over us every time Sophie has something good?”

"I am not asking you to feel guilty. I have accepted Sophie's place. I am not interfering. You have that. What else do you want?"

She did not answer. I took my books. As I headed upstairs, Sophie spoke.

"This is not Eva's fault. I just started thinking about my grandmother. She would have been happy today too."

My mother stopped following me. She went back to Sophie and pulled her close. "You do not have to apologize for missing her. You do not have to prove you deserve to stay. This is your home."

Back on the third floor, I packed the rest of my things. Sophie had lost one family but gained another. I finally admitted my parents were still alive, but they were not my home anymore.

Thirty minutes later, I came downstairs with my suitcase.

My father shot to his feet. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“My application for student housing was approved. I’m moving out.”

Their faces hardened immediately.

“Is this house suddenly not good enough for you?” my father demanded.

My mother stared at the suitcase. “You’re leaving because Sophie kept your room and we missed one birthday?”

“I told you we would redo the third floor,” she continued. “We’ll give you another party. Withdraw the application and stop turning this into something bigger than it is.”

They did not ask why I wanted to leave.

They had already decided: Sophie was grieving, and I was throwing a tantrum. Sophie needed a home, and I was trying to punish them for giving her one.

In my first life, I would have stayed and fought until they understood.

This time, I picked up my suitcase.

“Keep the room. Keep the party. Keep the daughter who makes you happy.”

My mother went still. “Eva, what is that supposed to mean?”

I opened the door. Rain swept across the steps.

“It means you don’t have to choose anymore.”