Sophia
The island was quiet that night.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that pressed against the chest and made breathing feel like an effort.
I sat by the open window in my chamber, my hands folded on the sill as I stared out at the moonlight painting silver over the restless sea.
But my mind was far from the waves.
It was back in another place, another time back in the home where my mother’s laughter was the sound that carried through every hallway.
I closed my eyes and I could almost hear my mother.
That light, warm laugh that made even the darkest of days seem less heavy. I remembered the way she always hummed while she worked, her hands busy with sewing or cooking, but her voice soft, steady, wrapping me in comfort.
We used to do everything together.
When I was small, sh
