Chapter 197: Second Chance

Lila’s POV

"Put me on the couch," Sophia instructed Beau as we made our way back into the living room.

My brother hesitated, clearly reluctant to let her go. "Your arm—"

"Is fine," she finished for him, though the blood seeping through her fingers suggested otherwise. "Lila's right—it needs to be cleaned."

I rushed to the kitchen, grateful to finally have something to do. My hands trembled as I pulled out antiseptic, gauze, and bandages from the first aid kit we kept for Violet's occasional bumps and scrapes. The cool metal of the box against my palms did nothing to calm the storm of guilt raging inside me.

When I returned, Beau had settled Sophia on the sofa and was kneeling beside her, his expression still thunderous but tinged with concern for his fiancée. I'd never seen my brother look at anyone the way he looked at her—like she was the center of his universe, the only thing that mattered. The realization made my thoughtless agreement to Mora's vicious gossip even more shameful.

"Let me," I said softly, approaching with my supplies.

Beau looked ready to refuse, but Sophia nodded, carefully extending her injured arm toward me. The trust in that simple gesture made my chest ache.

I sat beside her, gently cleaning the wound with antiseptic. She winced but didn't pull away, instead fixing me with an intense stare that made me squirm with discomfort. I focused on the task at hand, grateful for the temporary distraction from my churning guilt. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Beau's expression gradually shifting from anger to concern as he watched blood seep from the cut on his fiancée's arm.

"I didn't mean it," I began, keeping my voice steady while applying pressure to stop the bleeding. "Mora and I aren't friends—Isla told me to socialize with her. She just kept talking and talking, saying these awful things, and I just... I wanted her to shut up. I wasn't even thinking about what I was agreeing to."

"So when you agreed that I'm a complete slut, you didn't actually mean it?" Sophia asked, her tone unnervingly calm.

Her bluntness made me flinch, nearly dropping the gauze I was holding. "No! God, no. I would never think that about you."

"But you did say it," Beau interjected, still hovering protectively beside Sophia. His eyes were cold, accusing. I now realized how naive my earlier thoughts had been. Even if I knew about Sophia's marriage to Lucas, I should never have planned to tease Beau about it. Beau truly loved Sophia—I could see it in every protective gesture, every concerned glance.

"I know," I whispered, shame washing over me anew. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."

I silently finished bandaging Sophia's arm, securing it with medical tape. When I was done, I couldn't bring myself to look at either of them.

"Do you know why we came here today?" Sophia asked after a moment.

I shook my head, still staring at my own hands.

"To thank you," she said simply. "For supporting our relationship. For accepting me despite our complicated history. That bread was made by me—Beau taught me how."

The tears I'd been fighting spilled over, streaming down my cheeks. "Sophia, I'm so sorry. I swear I didn't mean it. I've been trying so hard to move past everything, to be a family..."

"I believe you."

Her words caught me off guard, and I jerked my head up, meeting her gaze through my tears.

"You do?"

She nodded, the corner of her mouth lifting in a small, sad smile. "I know what it's like to say things you don't mean just to make someone stop talking. And I know what Mora can be like."

"That doesn't excuse what I did," I insisted, needing her to understand the depth of my regret.

"No, it doesn't," Sophia agreed calmly. "But I choose to forgive you anyway."

Beau made a noise of disbelief, but Sophia silenced him with a look.

"Beau, darling, would you get me some water?" she requested, clearly wanting a moment alone with me.

My brother hesitated, his protective instincts warring with his desire to respect her wishes. Finally, with one last warning glance at me, he left for the kitchen.

The moment he was gone, Sophia leaned toward me, her voice low and urgent.

"I know we have a complicated past, Lila. I know I've hurt you, and I know it's hard for you to trust me. But I love your brother with my whole heart, and I'm carrying his child." Her hand moved protectively to her stomach. "For the sake of our family—all of us—we need to find a way forward."

In that moment, the vulnerability she displayed, her willingness to extend an olive branch despite my hurtful words, pierced me to my core. Without thinking, I reached for her hand, relieved when she didn't pull away.

"I want that too," I vowed, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "Sophia, I'm so sorry. I'll make this right, I swear."

Beau returned with water, his eyes narrowing at our clasped hands. He set the glass down with more force than necessary, startling both of us.

"All settled, are you?" he asked, his tone suggesting he found that unlikely.

Sophia reached for him, pulling him down beside her. "Getting there," she said, giving my hand one final squeeze before letting go. "Family is complicated, Beau. But worth fighting for."

I watched my fierce, protective brother soften under Sophia's gentle wisdom, and a flicker of hope sparked in my chest. Perhaps this terrible moment, this careless mistake, could become a turning point—not the destruction of our fragile peace, but the beginning of something better.

I only hoped I deserved this second chance.

A soft whimper from the hallway drew our attention, and Nora appeared with Violet in her arms. My daughter's face lit up when she saw me, her little arms reaching out.

"Someone's been asking for you," Nora explained, crossing to hand my daughter over. "She's been very patient, but I think she's had enough of her teddy for now."

As Violet settled against my chest, her warm weight familiar and comforting, I felt something inside me begin to heal.

"She's beautiful," Sophia said softly, watching as Violet's tiny fingers played with my necklace. "She looks so much like you."

"Poor kid has Ethan's eyes, though," Beau remarked, his tone lightening for the first time since they'd arrived. It wasn't forgiveness, not yet, but it was a start.

"They're beautiful eyes," I defended automatically, then blushed when I realized what I'd said.

Sophia laughed—a genuine sound that brightened the room. "Still madly in love with him, then?"

"Always," I admitted, pressing a kiss to Violet's head. "Even when I wanted to hate him, I couldn't stop loving him."

"I understand that feeling," Sophia said quietly, her gaze shifting to Beau. The look that passed between them was so intimate that I had to glance away, suddenly feeling like an intruder.

We sat in silence for a moment, the tension gradually dissolving.

"I think that's our cue to leave," Sophia said, pushing herself up from the couch with Beau's assistance. "We've taken up enough of your Sunday."

"We'll see you soon," Sophia promised, her hand finding mine one more time. "Family dinner next week?"

The invitation—so casual, so normal—was like a lifeline thrown to a drowning woman. "I'd like that," I said, squeezing her fingers gently.

As they walked toward the door, I called after them: "Sophia? Thank you. For believing me."

She turned back, her eyes serious. "We've all said things we didn't mean, Lila. The difference is what we do afterward."