A Hand That Wouldn’t Let Go
741 Words
Sophie Chase poked at her dinner, the quiet clink of her fork against the plate filling the silence at the table.
"Sophie, are you really staying in Chicago over the summer?" her father asked, his voice gentle, laced with concern.
"Yeah. I’m working," she replied, keeping her tone neutral.
It was a lie, or at least a half-truth. She could easily find a summer job back home in Atlanta, but she didn’t want to. This was just an excuse to stay away.
Ever since she left for college, she’d only returned home one weekend a month—an agreement she and her father had stuck to. And every one of those weekends felt like emotional landmines.
Her stepmother, Diana, had married her dad four years ago, bringing with her a bubbly stepsister named Nicole and a now three-year-old daughter. A picture-perfect blended family—just one where Sophie never felt like she belonged.
Diana wasn’t cruel. She didn’t force chores on Sophie or mistreat her in any obvious way. But that warmth, that motherly connection? Sophie had never felt it. It was like trying to plug into a socket that didn’t fit. And every family dinner only reminded her of that gap.
"Where are you working?" Diana asked, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Be careful. There are a lot of scams out there."
Sophie stiffened. Nicole worked too, yet Diana never worried about her getting scammed.
"She’s fine, Mom," Nicole chimed in before Sophie could respond. "We’re both working at Easton Designs. It’s a real company, not some sketchy Craigslist gig. I’ll keep an eye on her."
Here it was again—Nicole playing the perfect older sister act. Sophie bit back a retort. She didn’t need watching. She didn’t need Nicole.
"Why don’t you girls live together, then?" Diana asked. "You go to the same school, work at the same company. It’d save on rent."
"Exactly! Why don’t you move into my apartment? It’s way nicer than that rundown place you’re in now," Nicole said, her tone cheerful, but a bit too insistent.
Sophie forced a polite smile. "I’m used to my place."
She had been living in that tiny studio off Belmont since high school. The building was old, the walls thin, and her neighbors eccentric at best. But the rent was cheap, and more importantly, it was hers.
Her dad gave her a knowing look. "Let her be. She knows what she’s doing."
Sophie nodded, keeping her eyes on her plate. But her gaze occasionally lifted—to the way Diana gently fed her daughter, to Nicole giggling over something on her phone with their dad. A tightness built in her chest.
Why did it feel like everyone had found their rhythm except her?
And worst of all—her mother’s presence had completely vanished from this home. No photos, no stories, not even a mention. As if she’d never existed.
Back in her apartment that night, her roommate Chiyo practically tackled her at the door.
"Sophie, you’re back! I waited forever. Did you bring them?"
Sophie wordlessly tossed a bag at her. "Peach taffy. Don’t say I never do anything for you."
"You’re the best!" Chiyo beamed.
"Hey! I want some too!" their neighbor Marta leaned out from the kitchen.
"Back off! She brought them for me!" Chiyo ran, clutching the bag.
Marta chased after her, and Sophie slipped upstairs, tuning them out. She was used to the noise, but never quite part of it.
She collapsed on her bed, drained.
"Rough day?" Claire floated beside her, arms folded.
"Rough life," Sophie muttered.
"You’re not exactly warm and fuzzy with your family."
"I don’t want to talk about them."
Claire paused. "Okay. But… about Ryan…"
Sophie sat up, already groaning.
"Claire, I’m not making progress. I don’t think I ever will."
She thought about the last disaster—trying to set Ryan up with a model, only to be nearly fired.
"He’s not ready," she admitted. "And I’m not good at this. I don’t think I can help you."
Claire smiled sadly. "You tried. That’s already more than I could’ve asked."
She floated closer. "Actually… I’ve been thinking. Maybe we’ve been going about this all wrong."
Sophie narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Instead of some stranger… maybe the right person for Ryan is someone who already cares. Who understands."
Sophie blinked. "Who?"
Claire just smiled.
Before Sophie could argue, Claire vanished.
- Writer
