"Hey, are you okay?" Sofia asked softly when she walked into the kitchen and found Beatrice standing at the sink, unmoving, her fingers resting on the edge as if she were holding herself together.
Beatrice turned slowly, and instead of the sharpness Sofia had often braced herself for, there was something different in her eyes. When she smiled, it wasn't practiced or polished—it was real.
"Yeah," Beatrice murmured. "I'm fine. Just... thinking. I'm glad you came here with us, Sof. Honestly, I thought you'd turn down our invitation."
Sofia stepped closer, her voice gentle. "I really wanted to know you. And..." She hesitated, her throat tightening. "I also wanted to take this chance to say sorry—if I've ever made you feel threatened by my presence. That was never my intention. I will never take your place, Beatrice. No matter what, you'll always be our father's daughter. By blood or not... you were his daughter."
