Chapter 2

At dinner, Luca came running from the living room with his toy car.

"Sis!"

But he ran right past me and threw himself into Sofia's arms.

"Sofia, Marco said he's going to show you your new place!"

Sofia laughed and pinched his cheek.

"Want to come along?"

"Yes!"

Luca was five, my father and Caterina's son.

When he was learning to talk, my father taught him to call me sister.

But he always called Sofia "sister" and me "Elena."

My father just laughed it off. "He's still little. Give him time."

Years passed, and he never once called me sister.

My father put a piece of fish belly into Sofia's bowl.

"Sofia, you've been looking thin. Eat more. If you need money in Manhattan, just tell Dad."

Sofia immediately shook her head. "Don Vittorio, I won't need much. I'll be careful with my spending."

Caterina sighed. "You're too sensible, child."

I kept my head down and ate, remembering freshman year.

My father had hung my achievement medal in the most prominent spot in the living room, telling everyone who visited, "My daughter—top of the family academy."

Then Sofia transferred in. She didn't do well on her first exam and locked herself in her room crying for a long time.

Caterina sighed in the living room. "Sofia's always been sensitive, and Elena is so brilliant. Two girls under the same roof—it's bound to invite comparisons."

The next day, my father took my medal down.

He said, "Elena, it's great that you did well, but don't dwell on it. And don't put too much pressure on your sister."

I didn't say a word.

Doing well had become a fault.

"Elena."

My father's voice cut through my thoughts.

I looked up, thinking he might finally ask about Chicago.

Instead, he frowned. "Sofia was talking to you. Didn't you hear her?"

Sofia quickly waved her hands. "My sister was probably thinking about Chicago. She wasn't ignoring me."

"What's there to think about Chicago?"

His voice was cold. "Aren't you capable enough? You chose that track, you go. Don't act like the whole family owes you something."

Chicago had been my choice.

When we filled out the forms, Marco was right there.

He'd filled in the Chicago track and turned his screen to show me.

"Elena, don't worry. The three of us will take care of each other."

Only later did I learn that was a screenshot from before he submitted.

When he actually submitted, he'd switched back to Manhattan.

"Elena."

Marco's voice was soft. "I'll help look over your Chicago paperwork."

"What's there to look over?" I asked.

He was silent.

Sofia looked down. "Sis, I'm sorry. It's all my fault... I really can't handle the climate there. And I'm afraid I'd mess everything up."

I looked at her.

She'd never filled out Chicago to begin with.

"Sofia," Marco frowned. "It's not your fault."

"But my sister's going alone, and it hurts me too."

Her eyes reddened.

"Marco, maybe you should go with my sister. I'd be fine in Manhattan on my own."

My father put his chopsticks down at once. "Absolutely not."

Caterina jumped in too. "Sofia's health is fragile. She got sick even in the south. How could she handle Chicago?"

"Marco, this is Sofia's first time taking charge. Your schools are close—look after her."

Marco said nothing.

He defaulted.

I remembered my birthday last year.

They said they were busy and would celebrate on the weekend.

Sofia said she'd accidentally picked up the wrong cake—a strawberry one with her name on it.

I sat alone in my room in the dark.

Marco climbed in through the window with a tiny cream cake.

Scrawled on top in crooked letters were the words, [Elena.]

He said, "Even if everyone else forgets, I remember."

I cried so hard.

He wiped my tears and said, "Elena, I'll always be behind you."

Turns out words like "always" really can't be trusted.

After dinner, Marco followed me to the balcony.

"Elena, did you hear something?"

I leaned against the doorframe without looking at him.

"What do you think?"

"I didn't mean to lie to you."

"Then what were you doing?"

"I just..."

He paused for a long time. "Sofia needs someone to look after her more than you do."

I raised my head.

"So?"

"So staying in Manhattan for her doesn't mean I don't want you."

"You go to Chicago first. When that's done, we'll still—"

"Still get married?"

I finished for him.

"Marco, what did you think my four years were?"

"I didn't—"

"You did."

I looked at him, each word deliberate.

"You thought I'd keep waiting. Wait for you to finish taking care of Sofia. Wait until you finally remember there's an Elena behind you."

From the balcony, Caterina's voice suddenly rang out.

"Sofia, what are you doing standing out here? Your face is so pale—are you feeling unwell again?"