Chapter 16 After
Sophia woke up still herself. That was the first thing she checked.
Not her phone, not the time, and not whether Vinny had texted.
Herself. She lay under her blanket with morning light slipping around the edge of the curtain, her planner on the desk, her green notebook tucked under her pillow, and her body carrying a soft ache that made last night feel real.
Very real. She stared at the ceiling. Still Sophia, still in her room, and still had class notes to finish.
Still had a mother who would absolutely ask questions over coffee using only eyebrows if allowed.
Still had work at Bella Luna later and still had a boyfriend.
Her face warmed before she even moved. Boyfriend.
Vinny. Last night came back in pieces she couldn’t stop.
His apartment smelling like garlic and clean sheets.
His father’s photo on the shelf. Pasta by the window.
His hands at her waist. The couch. The bedroom door not latched.
She remembered the slow way he had waited, her own I’m sure, and his voice when he said her name.
His water glass on the nightstand afterward.
His hand in hers on the walk home. Sophia pulled the blanket over her face.
No. Seven in the morning was too early for that memory.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She froze.
Then laughed softly into the blanket because she knew. She knew. She reached for it.
Vinny: Morning, Soph.
Private. Still private. Her chest softened. Another message came before she answered.
Vinny: I waited until seven. That felt respectful.
Sophia smiled.
Sophia: Barely.
Vinny: I was awake at six.
Sophia’s face warmed.
Sophia: That isn’t my fault.
Vinny: It is absolutely your fault.
Then quickly:
Vinny: In a right way.
She stared at the message, smiling so hard it made her feel ridiculous. Then she remembered her planner.
Class reading.
Work.
Study examples.
Text Vinny after. She had literally written the order down last night.
She put the phone against her chest for one second.
Then set it facedown. Not because she didn’t want to answer.
She set it facedown because she wanted to answer, and that was exactly why she needed a minute.
She sat up slowly, wincing a little. The ache wasn’t bad.
Just there. A reminder. Her body felt different in simple ways she kept noticing.
That thought was almost school enough to be funny, almost. She got dressed in leggings and a soft sweatshirt, brushed her hair into a loose bun, then pulled it back down because the elastic tugged weirdly and she didn’t feel like fighting her own head before coffee.
When she came into the kitchen, Constance was already there.
Coffee in front of her. Laptop open. Glasses on her nose instead of on her head, which meant she had either found them early or hadn’t yet lost them. She looked up. Sophia stopped in the doorway. Constance didn’t say anything. It was worse.
“Morning,” Sophia said.
“Morning.”
The silence stretched. Sophia walked to the coffee maker because standing still made her feel too visible. Constance watched her pour coffee. Sophia added creamer. Stirred too long. Stopped. Her mother’s mouth softened.
“Sleep all right?” Constance asked.
Sophia stared into her mug. “Mostly.”
“Are you all right?”
Sophia looked at her. Not suspicious or nosy first. Mother first.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
Sophia nodded. “Really.”
Constance leaned back in her chair. “Good.”
For one beautiful second, that was all.
Then Constance said, “Do you need anything?”
Sophia’s whole face heated. “Mom.”
“I mean emotionally.”
“You don’t.”
“I also mean practically.”
“Mom.”
Constance lifted one hand. “Fine. I am stopping.”
“You aren’t stopping. You are pausing.”
“That is accurate.” She pointed at the chair across from her. “Sit for one minute.”
Sophia sat.
Constance studied her face. “You look happy.”
Sophia looked down at her coffee.
“I am.”
“And overwhelmed.”
“Yes.”
“And not upset.”
Sophia’s throat tightened.
“No.”
Constance nodded slowly. “Then I will take that.”
Sophia looked up. Her mother’s eyes were soft. Tired, maybe. A little emotional. But not angry. Not disappointed or afraid in a way that became control.
“I kept waiting to feel different in a bad way,” Sophia admitted.
Constance’s face changed.
“Did you?”
“No.” Sophia wrapped both hands around the mug. “I feel different. But not bad. I still feel like me.”
Constance blinked fast once. Then she reached across the table and covered Sophia’s hand.
“That matters.”
“I know.”
“And today?”
Sophia smiled faintly. “Same life. Class. Work. Reading.”
“Good.”
“It feels weird that everything is normal.”
“It is normal,” Constance said. “Big things don’t always change the rest of the day.”
Sophia let that settle. Then her phone buzzed on the counter where she had left it.
Constance glanced at it. “The boyfriend?”
Sophia groaned. “You enjoy saying that.”
“I do.”
“I can tell.”
“Will you answer him before class or after reading?”
Sophia narrowed her eyes.
Constance smiled. “It wasn’t a trap. That felt like a real question.”
Sophia looked at the phone. Then at her planner on the table.
“I need to read first.”
Constance squeezed her hand once and let go.
“Then read first.”
So Sophia did. Not perfectly. But she did. She read the assigned pages for Dr. Miller’s class, made three examples for classroom routines and emotional regulation, and wrote one note in the margin that actually made sense when she read it back. Then she texted Vinny.
Sophia: Reading done.
His reply came fast.
Vinny: Proud of you.
Then:
Vinny: Also, I miss you. Trying to be normal about it.
Sophia smiled.
Sophia: How is that going?
Vinny: Bad.
Sophia laughed into her coffee. This time, she answered.
Sophia: Same.
At class, Sophia took notes like someone who had a life outside her phone, mostly.
Her mind wandered twice. Fine. Three times.
Once during a discussion about transitional objects when a girl near the front mentioned how children sometimes carry something safe from home into a new environment, and Sophia thought of Vinny’s sweater around her shoulders at the park.
Then his sheets. Then his hand on hers. Not helpful.
Very not helpful. She underlined the phrase safe object so hard the pen almost tore the page.
Marissa leaned over. “You useful?”
Sophia looked up too fast. “Yes.”
Marissa glanced at the heavy underline.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“All right.”
Sophia sat straighter and pulled herself back into class as Dr. Miller moved on to classroom routines.
She wrote examples. She answered one question out loud.
Her voice shook a little at first, then steadied.
Decent enough, and still herself. After class, Dr. Miller handed back the correction sheets.
Sophia had earned all the available points. At the bottom, Dr. Miller had written:
Better adjustment. Keep studying through examples.
Sophia stared at the note for longer than necessary. Clear adjustment. Not perfect student or disaster repaired by panic. Adjustment. She could do that. She could adjust. Her phone buzzed in her bag as she walked out of the classroom, but she waited until she reached the hallway corner to check it.
Vinny: Antonia said I can test dessert ideas later this week.
Sophia stopped. Dessert ideas. Her chest lifted.
Sophia: Really?
Vinny: Really.
Another message came.
Vinny: I am calm.
Sophia smiled.
Sophia: Are you?
Vinny: No.
Sophia leaned against the wall, grinning at her phone. Then another message came.
Vinny: I wanted to tell you first.
Her smile softened. That one landed deeper. Not loud or dramatic. Just first.
Sophia: I’m proud of you.
The typing dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Vinny: I need a minute.
Sophia laughed softly. A student walked past and looked at her.
She didn’t care as much as she used to. At Bella Luna, the day after the proposal still had a little glow under the work.
No actual glitter, of course. Antonia would never allow that near food.
But the room felt different. A few regulars had already heard about the engagement because Maria Bartoli had apparently told one person at morning Mass, which in Little Italy meant seventeen people knew before noon.
Customers congratulated Antonia in gentle bursts, and Antonia accepted with a smile that looked like it kept surprising her.
Brett sent flowers again. A reasonable amount this time.
Antonia put them in the office. Gia accused her of hiding romance from the dining room.
Antonia told Gia to refill water glasses.
Sophia arrived for her shift and found Victoria at the host stand scrolling through her phone, one hip against the counter.
Victoria looked up.
“You look normal.”
Sophia paused. “Thank you?”
“I was checking.”
“For what?”
Victoria lowered her voice. “After.”
Sophia’s face heated.
Victoria lifted one hand. “I am not asking details.”
“Smart.”
“I am asking if you are all right.”
Sophia softened.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Victoria searched her face the same way Constance had. Then nodded.
“Right.”
Sophia smiled a little. “You sound like my mother.”
Victoria looked offended. “Take that back.”
“No.”
“I am much taller.”
Sophia laughed.
Victoria’s mouth softened despite herself. “He texted me last night.”
Sophia froze. “Vinny?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said you were inside and all right, but I should still check on you because you would pretend not to need checking.”
Sophia’s throat tightened. He had.
Victoria looked toward the kitchen. “Annoyingly thoughtful.”
“He is.”
“I said annoyingly.”
“I heard you.”
Victoria put her phone away. “I still have concerns.”
“I know.”
“But fewer.”
Sophia smiled. “That is progress.”
“It isn’t approval.”
“Never.”