Ch. 10: The Letter

There were things Sophia had learned never to say aloud, and most of them were about she.

Sophia crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way she was watching without seeming to. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Sophia said. "I'm asking you to listen."

Sophia crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way she was watching without seeming to. Sophia crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way she was watching without seeming to.

Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered.

Every choice had a price. Sophia had known that for years, and still the knowing never made it easier.

Money could buy a great many things, she had learned, but never the one thing that was wanted most. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Sophia said. "I'm asking you to listen."

By the time the light faded, nothing was decided, and yet everything felt different.