Chapter 3

Sofia stood in the doorway, tears spilling down her face.

"Sister, I didn't mean to take Marco from you."

Marco turned at once.

"Sofia, don't cry."

Before Sofia could even wipe her tears, Caterina had stepped in front of her.

I hadn't done a thing.

But the moment Sofia cried, I became the one who made her cry.

Caterina wrapped an arm around her. "Elena, Sofia already feels terrible. Do you have to push her like this?"

My father didn't ask what happened. He just said, "Elena, what exactly do you want?"

They were the ones who'd lied to me. Yet in the end, I was the one at fault.

But I didn't want to ask anymore.

In this house, no one was ever going to give me answers.

I turned and went back to my room.

Before I closed the door, Marco called after me.

"Elena, wait for me to come back. I'll explain everything properly."

I didn't look back.

I didn't need explanations anymore.

The next morning, my father knocked on my door.

I was stuffing the last few books into my suitcase.

He looked at the luggage and frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"Early reporting."

"Early reporting?"

He scoffed. "You throw a tantrum yesterday and now you're running away from home?"

"Not running away. The base notified me."

"Don't pull that base nonsense with me."

My father walked in and kicked the edge of my suitcase.

"Elena, you're the older sister. Act like one. Sofia and Luca are both younger. What's so hard about giving in a little?"

I looked up at him.

"Sofia is barely two months younger than me."

"So what? She grew up struggling with her mother. She's more sensitive than you."

"And me?"

"You grew up with me. You never went without. What do you have to complain about?"

I said nothing.

But my silence seemed to anger him even more.

"Don't give me that victim act. Your mother died young. I raised you, gave you a whole family. What more could you possibly want?"

"A whole family?"

I finally spoke.

"Dad, do you really think this has ever felt like home to me?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

My voice was quiet.

"If this counts as home, then I really don't know how to be grateful."

He raised his hand as if to strike me.

"Don Vittorio."

Marco stepped between us.

"She wants to report early. That's her choice. Don't force her."

For a moment, I saw the boy I used to know—the one who stood in front of me and said no one could ever bully me.

Then Sofia called out from the living room.

Caterina's voice came, panicked. "Sofia can't breathe! Her anxiety's flaring up again!"

Marco's face changed. He rushed out.