Finding Love In The Unseen

Chapter 8

    The morning crept up faster than Sophie would have liked. She lay perfectly still, nestled under her blankets, refusing to open her eyes. Her window was cracked open, and from outside, the faint creak of the gate swinging echoed softly, along with the muffled footsteps of someone moving around the house. She kept her eyes closed, trying to stay cocooned in the last bit of darkness. She wasn’t exactly sure how long she’d been awake—maybe thirty minutes, an hour, maybe more. But she didn’t want to face the day.

If she opened her eyes, she’d breathe in the antiseptic smell that clung to her from the hospital. Her mind played tricks on her, taunting her with the sounds of nurses’ footsteps and the faint hum of children’s voices drifting from the halls. Just yesterday, she’d promised one of the younger kids that they’d play together. She had begged Dr. Grace to let her leave the hospital on a Friday evening just so she could avoid school the next day—the endless questions, the prying looks. Ahe didn't put it past her parents to  sent her to school right away if they’d had the chance. She sighed, the heaviness of the situation pressing down on her. There was an ache in her chest she hadn’t felt since those first days in the hospital.

“Come on, Sophie,” she whispered to herself, voice quivering. “We can’t be like this now, okay? We just have to get through the day, like always.” But despite her pep talk, a warm tear rolled down her cheek, trailing into her hairline. She bit her lip, trying to swallow the wave of self-pity rising within her, but the hurt didn’t fade. Finally, she pulled herself up, threw off the covers, and dragged herself to the bathroom.

The light was harsh, making her squint as she stared at her reflection. She brushed her teeth slowly, as though going through the motions might ease the emptiness in her chest. She lingered under the shower spray, letting the warm water run over her as if it could wash away everything she’d been carrying. She didn’t rush; by the time she stepped out and glanced at the clock, it was already 10:19 a.m. She gave a humorless laugh—so much for an early start.

Pulling on a soft, loose shirt and the first comfortable pair of pants she could find, Sophie’s stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning as the thought of coming back home made her nauseous . Yet the thought of going downstairs made her stomach twist. She could picture her family’s awkward stares, each one trying too hard or not at all. She opened her bag instead and found the piece of candy Jacob had given her before she left.she sighed, her heart tugging as she thought about him and the others. They’d drawn little pictures for her to take home, and she found herself tracing over the lines with her finger, their innocence and warmth filling her with a strange ache.

Finally, unable to hide in her room forever, Sophie took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway. As she started down the stairs, the sounds of her family laughing and talking drifted up. The closer she got, the quieter it grew, until by the time she reached the bottom step, there was complete silence. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to walk into the kitchen. Her mother was the first to break the silence.

“Good morning, Sophie! How was your night?” Her mother’s smile was so forced, it looked like it might crack. Sophie’s father didn’t say anything but wrapped her in a bear hug, his grip so tight it felt like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go. Her siblings mumbled their good mornings, Adrian barely making eye contact, and Olivia only managed a small nod. Noah gave her a tiny smile, but it vanished almost instantly.

“So, Sophie,” her mother said, her voice overly bright, “what would you like for breakfast? I made your favorite—creamy mushroom risotto!” Sophie’s stomach churned with guilt. Olivia hated the dish and had always refused to eat it. Yet there she was, looking as eager as everyone else.

The breakfast was agonizingly quiet. Her family exchanged sad, worried glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. Every time she reached for a dish, someone would grab it first and pass it to her, saying, “Don’t worry, Sophie, let us help you.” She could hardly breathe under the weight of their concern; it felt like she was suffocating. When she finally finished eating, she stood up to clear her dishes, but Adrian stepped in. “I got it,” he mumbled, taking the plate from her hands before she could protest.