Chapter 8: The Things Distance Changes
1759 Words
Paris was slowly becoming familiar.
Not home—not yet.
But familiar enough that Sophia no longer woke up wondering where she was.
She knew the route to school by heart. She knew which café near the corner opened earliest in the morning and which streets became crowded after classes ended. She had even discovered a small bookstore not far from their apartment where she could spend hours without noticing how quickly time passed.
The city was beginning to feel less like the place her mother had taken her to and more like a place she had chosen to understand.
Still, there were moments when New York found its way back to her.
Sometimes it was a familiar song.
Sometimes it was a photograph.
And sometimes, it was simply a memory.
That afternoon, Sophia sat in the school library surrounded by books and handwritten notes. She had been studying for nearly two hours when Evelyn dropped into the chair opposite her.
“You're still here?”
Sophia looked up.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I finished my work.”
“You finished yours,” Sophia corrected. “I have an entire mountain left.”
Evelyn glanced at the books scattered across the table.
“You're exaggerating.”
“I'm not.”
Sophia pushed one of her textbooks toward her.
“Look at this. Everyone already understands this topic, and I'm still trying to figure out what the teacher was talking about yesterday.”
Evelyn smiled.
“You're catching up faster than you think.”
Sophia leaned back in her chair.
“I hope you're right.”
“I am.”
There was something about Evelyn's confidence that Sophia liked.
She never made her feel inadequate for being behind. She never treated her homeschooling background as something strange. Instead, she simply accepted Sophia as she was.
That was rare.
And Sophia appreciated it.
“You're coming to practice later, right?” Evelyn asked.
“Practice?”
“Basketball.”
Sophia smiled.
“You know I don't play.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you keep asking?”
“Because one day you'll say yes.”
Sophia laughed.
“We'll see.”
Evelyn stood, picked up her bag, and smiled.
“I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
As Evelyn walked away, Sophia watched her for a moment.
There was something about her that felt strangely familiar.
Perhaps it was the way she smiled.
Perhaps it was the passion she had for basketball.
Or perhaps it was simply the feeling Sophia got whenever Evelyn talked about something she loved.
It reminded her of John.
John had always been like that.
Whenever he cared about something, he gave it everything he had.
Sophia smiled at the thought.
She missed him.
More than she usually admitted.
---
That evening, Sophia returned home to find Susan sitting at the dining table with her laptop open.
“You're late,” Susan said without looking up.
“I stayed behind to study.”
Susan immediately looked up.
“You stayed behind voluntarily?”
Sophia laughed.
“Yes, Mom.”
Susan smiled.
“I’m proud of you.”
Sophia dropped her bag beside the chair and sat down.
“How was work?”
“Busy.”
“That sounds like a good thing.”
“It is.”
Susan closed her laptop.
“Things are finally settling down.”
Sophia studied her mother.
There was something different about Susan lately.
She seemed more confident.
More established.
Perhaps the promotion had given her more than a new position. Perhaps it had given her the feeling that she had finally reached somewhere she had worked toward for years.
“Did you speak with Annabelle?” Sophia asked.
Susan smiled.
“Of course.”
“What did she say?”
“That I should stop working so much.”
Sophia laughed.
“That sounds like her.”
“She also spent almost an hour talking about a new collection.”
“Of course she did.”
They both laughed.
For a few minutes, everything felt normal.
Then Sophia's expression changed slightly.
“Did you speak to Chris?”
Susan noticed the hesitation.
“Not today.”
“Oh.”
Sophia looked down at the table.
She hadn't intended for the question to sound important.
But it did.
And she knew it.
---
Back in New York, the Williams Estate was quieter than Sophia remembered.
John was outside on the basketball court, practicing alone.
The rhythmic sound of the ball against the pavement carried through the evening air.
He dribbled, moved toward the basket, shot, retrieved the ball, and started again.
Over and over.
It was the kind of routine that helped him clear his mind.
Chris watched from a short distance away.
“You've been out here for hours.”
John caught the ball.
“Not hours.”
“Close enough.”
John shrugged and took another shot.
Chris walked closer.
“You talked to Sophy?”
John hesitated.
“Not today.”
Chris nodded.
“When was the last time?”
“About two weeks ago.”
Chris looked at him.
“Two weeks?”
John bounced the ball once.
“She’s busy.”
“So are you.”
“I know.”
There was a pause.
John looked toward the house.
“I don't want to keep calling when she's trying to settle into her new life.”
Chris was quiet.
“You think calling her is going to stop her from settling in?”
John shook his head.
“No.”
“Then what's the problem?”
John didn't answer.
Perhaps there wasn't a problem.
Perhaps they were simply growing up.
When people were children, distance felt like something that could be defeated with a phone call.
Growing older taught them that life could become complicated even when nobody wanted it to.
John tossed the ball toward the basket again.
This time, it went in.
Chris smiled.
“You're getting better.”
John grinned.
“I know.”
For a moment, they stood there in silence.
Then Chris said quietly, “You miss her.”
John's smile faded into something softer.
“Of course I do.”
---
Two days later, Sophia's phone vibrated during lunch.
She glanced at the screen.
Johnny: Sophy.
A smile immediately appeared on her face.
She replied.
Sophy: Johnny.
His response came quickly.
Johnny: Are you alive?
Sophia laughed.
Sophy: Barely.
Johnny: Paris hasn't swallowed you yet?
Sophy: Not yet.
There was a short pause.
Then:
Johnny: I miss you.
Sophia stared at the words.
She had expected a joke.
Something ridiculous.
Anything that would make the conversation feel like their old conversations.
Instead, the simplicity of those three words made her chest feel strangely warm.
She typed:
Sophy: I miss you too.
Another message appeared.
Johnny: I miss the old oak tree.
Sophia's smile softened.
The tree.
Their tree.
The old oak tree in the Williams garden where they had spent countless afternoons talking about everything and nothing.
Where they had made childish promises about the future.
Where distance had once seemed like something that belonged to other people.
Sophy: Me too.
John replied:
Johnny: We'll sit there again someday.
Sophia stared at the screen.
Then she smiled.
Sophy: Promise?
Johnny: Promise.
She locked her phone.
For a moment, the noise around her disappeared.
She wasn't in Paris anymore.
She was back beneath the old oak tree, laughing with Johnny as they had done for years.
Then Evelyn sat beside her.
“You look happy.”
Sophia looked up.
“I am.”
“Good.”
Evelyn smiled.
Sophia smiled back.
Maybe some friendships didn't need constant conversations to survive.
Maybe some bonds simply waited patiently for the next time two people found themselves in the same place again.
---
That weekend, Sophia went for a walk with Evelyn after school.
The streets were busy, filled with people moving in every direction.
Evelyn talked enthusiastically about basketball practice while Sophia listened.
“You should come and watch one day,” Evelyn said.
“Maybe.”
“You always say maybe.”
“Because I'm not making promises.”
Evelyn laughed.
“You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
They continued walking.
Sophia listened as Evelyn described her goals, her training, and how seriously she wanted to improve.
There was something inspiring about listening to someone speak so confidently about what they wanted from life.
Sophia wondered what she wanted.
For so long, her life had been decided around her.
Homeschooling.
New York.
Paris.
School.
Her mother's career.
The expectations of her family.
Now, for the first time, she was beginning to understand that growing up meant making some decisions for herself.
She wanted to succeed in school.
She wanted to discover what she was capable of.
She wanted to build friendships that belonged to her—not friendships inherited from her family's relationships.
And, perhaps most importantly, she wanted to understand who she was when nobody else was deciding for her.
---
That night, Sophia sat beside her bedroom window.
Paris glittered beneath the dark sky.
Her phone rested beside her.
She had expected another message from John.
Instead, it was Chris.
Chris: Hey, Sophy. How are things in Paris?
Sophia stared at the message for a moment before replying.
Sophia: Good. School is keeping me busy.
The reply didn't come immediately.
A few minutes passed.
Then:
Chris: That's good. Keep working hard.
Sophia smiled faintly.
She placed the phone down.
A moment later, it buzzed again.
Chris: And don't forget us completely.
Sophia read the message twice.
She didn't know what to make of it.
So she simply smiled.
Sophia: I won't.
She put the phone aside and looked out the window again.
Paris was changing her.
New York was still part of her.
And somewhere between the two places was a version of herself she had not yet discovered.
Distance had changed the rhythm of their lives.
John was becoming busier.
Chris was preparing for a future in professional football.
Susan was building a new career.
Annabelle was building her fashion empire.
And Sophia was learning how to stand on her own.
None of them knew exactly where these changes would lead.
But one thing was becoming clear:
Growing up did not always mean losing people.
Sometimes, it meant discovering whether the bonds you shared were strong enough to survive becoming different people.
And Sophia was beginning to understand that some answers could only be found with time.
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