Chapter 53: The Space Between Them

The house was quieter than usual.

Not the comforting kind of quiet, this one was painful. It scraped at Sofia and she fought with herself not to cry.

Marco hadn’t spoken to her since the confrontation.

Not a single word.

Not even a glance across the dinner table where they used to share the weight of silence together.

Alyssa didn’t notice the shift, thank God. She was busy with her schoolwork and being

But Sofia noticed every second that Marco wasn't talking to her.Every time he entered a room and left without meeting her eyes.

She tried once last night to reach for his hand.

He’d flinched like she was fire that wanted to burn him.

She had retreated, understanding that he needed space from her for now.

This morning, the sunlight cut through the windows in lazy streaks. Sofia sat by the piano, absently pressing one key at a time. She wasn't trying to create melody, just trying to distract herself.

She hadn’t cried, not yet but her chest felt like something was splintering with every breath she took.

One of the secrets that she had coveted was out and Marco had reacted badly to it.

What if she found out that Kristoff was the father of Lucia's child? Would that secret be enough to destroy their marriage?

Why hadn’t she just told him the truth from the beginning?

Because she was scared how he'd react.

And looked where it had all ended up.

She stood, walked into the kitchen, made tea she didn’t want.

The kettle whistled like it was mourning like she was.

Later, she wandered into the living room where Alyssa had curled up with a blanket and a book.

“Mama,” she said without looking up.

Sofia froze.

It wasn’t the first time.

But it was the first time it hurt.

“I like when you stay here,” Alyssa said. “Daddy is always happy where you're around.”

That can be questioned now, she wasn't so sure if he was still happy with her presence.

Sofia sat beside her, brushing a curl behind the girl’s ear.

“Do you think he’s mad at me?” Alyssa whispered.

Sofia shook her head. “No, baby. He’s not mad. He’s just... tired.”

“Are you tired?”

“Yes,” she answered truthfully. “But I’m trying.”

She didn’t know if she was lying to herself or to Alyssa.

Maybe both.

That night Sofia lingered outside Marco’s study. She hesitated outside the door, too nervous to knock on his door.

The door was shut, but she could hear movement and sound coming from there. He was in there, the low murmur of his voice on a call.

She raised her hand to knock, paused and then lowered it again.

She leaned her forehead against the door instead, closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of wood.

I miss you.

But she didn’t say it out loud.

When she returned to her room, the bed felt too big and empty.

She pressed a hand to her stomach, flat still, but not for long.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” she whispered to the dark.

No one answered.