Chapter 21 No Goodnight
Sophia woke before her alarm and reached for her phone before she remembered.
No morning text. She lay still with her hand halfway to the nightstand, fingers curled in the air like they had reached for something that should have been there.
After a few seconds, she pulled her hand back under the blanket and stared at the ceiling.
She had asked for this. No morning, no goodnight, and no waiting after shifts.
No food left with Gia or Victoria and no walking her home.
No fighting online because he was angry on her behalf.
Space.
The word had sounded simple last night outside Bella Luna.
This morning, the word didn’t feel steady anymore.
Sophia rolled onto her side and looked at the phone anyway.
The screen was dark except for the time.
No message from Vinny. No late-night apology sent after he had promised not to push.
No sad paragraph. No picture of soup he was definitely not allowed to bring her.
He had listened, which was what she needed.
It still hurt. Her alarm went off a minute later.
Sophia turned it off, sat up, and reached for the planner on her desk before she could talk herself into opening messages that weren’t there.
Class reading.
Study examples.
Bella Luna short shift.
No Vinny texts unless necessary.
The last line looked meaner in daylight. She left it.
Constance knocked once and opened the door halfway. “Awake?”
“Yes.”
Her mother studied her from the doorway. “Sleep?”
“Some.”
“That isn’t much of an answer.”
“It wasn’t much sleep.”
Constance nodded. She was already dressed for work, but she stayed in the doorway instead of rushing toward coffee or client folders.
Sophia looked down at the planner. “He didn’t text.”
“Good.”
Sophia looked up.
Constance’s face softened. “Not great because it hurts. Kind because you asked him not to.”
“I know.”
“You can miss something and still need it gone for a while.”
Sophia pressed her lips together and nodded because talking would make her cry before class, and she had already done enough crying in this apartment.
Constance came in and sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you going to school?”
“Yes.”
“Work?”
“Short shift. Antonia said I could do prep or silverware. Maybe hosting support if I feel all right.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“It makes me feel like everyone is handling me.”
“Are they, or are they giving you options?”
Sophia looked at her mother.
Constance lifted both hands. “Real question.”
Sophia looked back at the planner. “Options, I guess.”
“Then take the option that helps you get through today.”
Sophia nodded. Her phone stayed dark on the nightstand. She didn’t pick it up. That was one victory. Brief and miserable, but still.
Class went better than Sophia expected until a girl two rows back whispered, “Is that her?” during the break.
Sophia heard it. She heard it. She kept her eyes on her notebook and pretended the cap of her pen needed her full attention. Marissa heard it too. She turned around in her seat and gave the girl a look sharp enough to end the whisper immediately. The girl flushed and looked away.
Sophia’s stomach twisted. “Don’t.”
Marissa turned back. “I only used my face.”
“Still.”
“She was being rude.”
“I know.”
Marissa leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Did you want me not to?”
Sophia breathed in, then out. “I don’t know.”
“All right. Next time I’ll ask before my face gets involved.”
Sophia almost laughed. “Thank you.”
Dr. Miller started the second half of class, and Sophia forced herself back to the lesson.
They were reviewing classroom family communication, which sounded harmless until Dr. Miller said, “When an incident happens publicly, the adult has to be measured not to make the mistake the first thing people see about the child.”
Sophia wrote the sentence down because it was useful for class. She didn’t underline it. Underlining would make it about her.
After class, Dr. Miller stopped her near the door. “Sophia, do you have a moment?”
Marissa slowed, but Sophia shook her head. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Marissa nodded and left, though not before giving Dr. Miller a suspicious glance that made Sophia tired in a grateful way.
Dr. Miller held a folder against her chest. “I saw the article and the posts around it.”
Sophia’s face warmed so fast she had to look at the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Miller said. “I am not bringing it up to embarrass you.”
“It’s fine.”
“It may not be.”
Sophia looked up. Dr. Miller’s expression was calm, but not distant. Teacher calm. The kind that made room without pushing.
“I wanted to ask whether you needed an extension on Friday’s reflection response.”
Sophia almost said no immediately. Her mouth even opened. Then she stopped. The paper wasn’t hard exactly, but her brain kept snagging on the same words online: earnest, nervous, undertrained, the server. Every time she sat down to write, she thought about the review again.
“Maybe one day?” Sophia asked.
Dr. Miller nodded. “Done.”
Sophia blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Email it by Saturday night.”
“I can still try for Friday.”
“You may. But you have Saturday.”
Sophia swallowed. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Dr. Miller shifted the folder to her other arm. “And Sophia?”
“Yes?”
“One article doesn’t tell me whether you understand course material.”
Sophia’s throat tightened. Dr. Miller didn’t soften the statement into comfort. She said it like a fact, which made it easier to hold.
“All right,” Sophia said.
Outside the classroom, Marissa waited by the wall with two coffees.
Sophia stared at them. “Why do you always have extra coffee?”
“I plan for emergencies.”
“Do I look like an emergency?”
“Today? Yes.” Marissa handed her one. “But like a contained emergency.”
Sophia took the cup. “That isn’t comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. It was meant to be coffee.”
That got a real smile from Sophia. Not big, enough.
Vinny spent the morning at his mother’s kitchen table with his phone facedown and a blank sheet of paper in front of him. The paper had been blank for forty minutes.
Anna sat across from him doing homework she had said was “basically done,” which meant not done. Mary stood at the counter making toast and watching him like he was a cooking show where the recipe had already gone wrong.
Maria had gone to work after telling him to eat something and not do anything stupid. The second instruction had been pointed. Vinny tapped the pen against the paper.
Anna looked up. “If you keep doing that, I’m taking the pen.”
“Sorry.”
He stopped for five seconds. Then started again.
Mary turned around with toast in her hand. “Are you writing the letter or attacking it?”
“I’m thinking.”
“You look like the paper is winning,” Anna said.
Vinny leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know what to say.”
Anna gave him a flat look. “You say sorry.”
“I did.”
“Better.”
“I’m trying.”
Mary came to the table and sat sideways in a chair. “What did you write so far?”
Vinny looked at the blank page.
Anna leaned over and looked too. “Wow. Powerful.”
“Do you two want to help or insult me?”
“Yes,” Mary said.
Anna held out her hand. “Give me the pen.”
“No.”
“Then say it out loud first. What are you sorry for?”
Vinny rubbed his hands over his face. “Leaving the kitchen.”
Anna nodded. “Good.”
“Not listening when she asked me not to step in.”
Mary nodded too.
“Making everyone look at me instead of letting her handle it.”
Anna’s face softened a little. “That one.”
Vinny stared at the paper. It was the sentence that kept coming back.
Not because Sophia had said it loud. She hadn’t had to.
Once she did say it, he couldn’t stop seeing it.
The whole dining room turning toward him.
His voice filling the space. Sophia standing near table seven with her hands shaking and her face going calm. He picked up the pen.
Dear Sophia,
He stopped.
Too formal?
Too far?
Mary peered over. “Dear is all right. This isn’t a text.”
Anna nodded. “And don’t write baby or babe or anything disgusting.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You work in a kitchen. I don’t trust your romance words.”
Vinny pointed the pen at her. “You are thirteen.”
“And yet I am right.”
He looked back at the page.
Dear Sophia,
I am sorry I left the kitchen after you asked me not to step in.
That was all he wrote before his throat tightened.
Mary stopped joking.
Anna looked down at her homework.
Vinny kept writing slowly, pressing too hard with the pen.
I thought I was helping you. I was wrong. I made people look at me instead of letting you handle what happened. I made your mistake bigger because I couldn’t handle my own anger.
He stopped.
The next sentence tried to come out as I love you.
He crossed nothing out because he hadn’t written it.
Decent.
Not now.
He wrote:
I am not asking you to answer this.
Anna read upside down, then nodded once.
Mary whispered, “Better.”
Vinny’s phone buzzed on the table.
All three of them froze.
He turned it over.
Gia.
Gia: Review fallout update: people are defending her. Don’t comment. Don’t even breathe near the comment section.
Vinny typed back:
Vinny: I won’t.
Gia replied immediately.
Gia: Clear. Because I am unstable and Antonia has knives.
Vinny almost smiled. Then another message came.
Gia: She is working short shift today. Don’t come.
Vinny stared at the words. Sophia was at Bella Luna. He wanted to go there so badly his whole body reacted before his brain could stop it. He could stand across the street. Not talk to her. Just make sure she got out all right. Just see her face. Just know. Anna snatched his keys from the table.
Vinny looked at her. “What are you doing?”
“You made a face.”
“I didn’t.”
Mary got up and stood by the back door like a tiny bouncer with toast.
Anna pocketed the keys. “You aren’t going.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Vinny stared at her.
Then let out a breath. “Yes.”