Chapter 47
SOFIA
pa - TINI
Family time had been surprisingly fun, more than Sofia remembered. She hadn’t ended up biting her sister’s head off, her mother hadn’t bothered her for her usual messiness, and her father—well, they had never actually fought much.
She’d spent the morning working from the garden while Francesca and Ginevra pretended to do homework beside her, mimicking her typing with their own colorful notebooks and gel pens.
Gabriella slept until lunchtime, and her mother hovered, offering her food, iced drinks, a sunhat she refused three times.
Her father, as her sister had told her, spent most of the day gazing out at the Mar Ligure.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Sofia said gently, sitting beside him in the late afternoon, just before they were all set to head down to the beach for a quick dip.
“Sad thoughts or happy thoughts?” he asked, still watching the horizon where ships drifted like silent beasts.
“Real ones.”
Her father sighed. They always spoke Italian together, but he always laced his words with that gentle cadence of Ligurian dialect, the one she understood but had never mastered. The one that reminded her of her grandparents and of simpler, saltier summers.
“I don’t think I’m ready to let go, Sofia.
” Her heart broke. “Life, my family... It's too early, and it kills me inside. I’ve tried to stay positive this whole time, but nothing’s getting better.
” His voice wavered. “So, I sit. I look out at the sea. And I pray that when I go, you’re all taken care of. ”
Sofia clenched her jaw, trying really hard not to cry. She had already used that card when they met, and an anchor is what her father needed. Not a cry baby like her.
Her father continued. “I know friends in the hospital who’ve made peace with it. Too much pain. Too much loss. But me?” He took her hand and squeezed it. “To me, the pain means I’m alive. It means there’s still a chance.”
She blinked fast.
“It’s okay if you cry, Sofia.”
“I can try not to, for once, belin,” she whispered, though her eyes were already damp.
Her father chuckled softly. “You’ve always been a sensitive kid. With people, with the world. And then you grew up into this strong woman. I’m proud of you, of everything you’ve accomplished since you freed yourself from that coglione.”
“All of you hated him and never cared to tell me?” she muttered, half-joking.
“We thought you were happy. And that was enough,” he replied, finally looking at her and smiling, worn and warm.
“A heads-up would’ve been appreciated.”
“What about this Ilias? How did he take it when you said you weren’t going to Brazil?”
“He was okay with it. He lost his father a few years ago. He’s helped me a lot,” she said softly, squeezing his hand again. “He’s a good guy.”
“Do you love him?”
Sofia smiled, turning her gaze to the horizon. “I think we’re heading inevitably in that direction.”
“And your business?”
“Better than ever. TerraVive’s investment gave us a solid boost, but we already doubled the income through tours booked one year in advance and other sponsorship that have rolled in. This fake PR stunt has definitely benefited Salacia too, more than the 200k TerraVive gave us.”
“And TerraVive? How did they take you coming here?”
“I sent Jamie an email about not going to Brazil, and she hasn’t replied yet.”
Which was a white lie. He didn’t need to know that she had received a short email from Jamie stating that she was going to bring that to the board.
Hence, she was fucked. She didn’t even tell Ilias either, since he was traveling down to Brazil.
The last thing she wanted was to worry him while on a gods-know-how long flight.
“Did you play the ‘my father is about to die’ card?”
“Obviously.” Sofia chuckled, appreciating his ever-dark humor. “Still… contracts aren’t my thing. If needed, I’ll have Gabri check.”
He nodded, then looked at her with a rare intensity. “I’m proud of you, you know that? And ti voglio bene, you know that?”
“I know, Papà. Ti voglio bene anche io.”
He pulled her into a hug, tighter than usual. It was the kind of hug that carved itself into memory.
When the bell rang, they exchanged a glance.
“Were you waiting for someone?” Sofia asked.
“I really hope it’s not the fucking priest. Your mother will be thrilled. I, on the other hand, can’t stand that man and his pitiful face.”
Sofia chuckled. Her father’s atheism had always amused her. They were raised Catholic more for their mother’s tradition than his beliefs. His only religion had always been the sea, and that, she had inherited.
Voices echoed through the open windows. Spanish. Plural. Familiar.
“That voice…” her father’s brows furrowed, surprised. “It can’t be—”
And then the front door opened.
José appeared first, his arms wide, that big contagious smile lighting up his face. Marina followed closely behind him; her cheeks already flushed with warmth.
But Sofia didn’t register them for long. Because suddenly, Alejandra and Carlos were there, side by side, both smiling fondly at her.
And then she saw him. Her mouth went slack for a couple of seconds, her brain short-circuited because, what do you mean he was there and not in Brazil?
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Tawny skin. Those hazel eyes locked onto her with a look that said I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be accompanied by a goddamn apologetic smile.
“Ilias?” Her voice was barely a breath. “What the fuck are you all doing here?”
But she was already running, already flying from her father’s side and into Ilias’ arms. He caught her instantly, pulling her up into a bear hug, like gravity had never mattered.
“I’m here, habiba. I’m here.”
And just like that, the dam broke again. Tears poured down her cheeks as he held her tight, as if he could stitch her back together just by keeping her close. The ache in her chest softened, not erased, but somehow made bearable by the arms wrapped around her.
At that moment, she didn’t care how he got there. She didn’t care who knew. He came. And that was everything.