Chapter 13
Sofia returned to the service kitchen only when she wanted.
For months, she avoided it.
Then one rainy afternoon I found her there with Lily.
Cake batter everywhere.
A copper bowl on the floor.
Flour on my daughter’s hair.
I stopped in the doorway.
Sofia looked at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She understood anyway.
The sink was the same.
We had replaced nothing.
I offered renovation.
She declined.
“Delia doesn’t own sinks.”
Good.
Lily pointed at a pan.
“Mommy, wash.”
Sofia laughed.
“You made the mess.”
Lily looked offended by basic accountability.
I stepped inside.
“Need help?”
Sofia handed me a towel.
Apparently yes.
I dried bowls.
My suit jacket came off.
Sleeves rolled.
Tattoos exposed.
Lily stared.
“Daddy maid.”
Sofia laughed so hard she had to sit.
Good.
The word had lost its weapon.
That mattered more than replacing the room.
Afterward, Sofia told me something.
On the worst night, day nine, she had stood at that sink and considered leaving with Lily.
Not leaving me.
Leaving the penthouse.
Until I returned.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Delia said if I left, everyone would think she was right.”
I hated that.
Pride trapped her too.
I said:
“Next time, leave.”
She looked at me.
“Next time?”
“Not Delia.”
I clarified.
“Any place that becomes unsafe.”
Even mine.
Especially mine.
She touched my face.
No melodrama.
May you like
Just understanding.
Love should never require remaining in the room where someone is hurting you simply to prove you belong there.
