Chapter 55
SOFIA
La Rondine – Mango
Somehow, when her mother came to her room, whispering for her to come out while Ilias snored beside her, Sofia wasn’t surprised. Not really. She’d been expecting it, in the pit of her stomach, for hours.
Gabriella stood beside her, still half-asleep, her hair a mess, her expression confused.
“Papà quiere despedirse,” their mother said quietly. Papà wants to say goodbye.
Gabriella blinked awake instantly.
Sofia had sensed this coming all day. Some quiet instinct, that trembled in her gut and behind her ribs.
She’d once read about it, that people often have a final burst of energy before death.
A deceptive surge. Maybe it had been Alejandra who told her, years ago, when she was studying physical performance and recovery.
That fact had sat buried in her mind until it surfaced now, pressing against her bones like a warning.
They followed their mother silently, through the house to the bedroom that had once been a cradle for them both. A sanctuary when monsters hid in dreams or when something so important needed to be said that it could only be said under covers, in whispers, in the safety of dim light.
"Le mie belle bambine," their father murmured when they entered, his voice thready and weak, a faint echo of the baritone they’d grown up with.
He looked smaller. His skin paler, eyes sunken. It was as if life was seeping slowly out of him. It was.
Sofia forced a smile, her throat tight, and walked to one side of the bed. Gabriella and their mother settled on the other.
“Papà...” they both whispered, broken in unison.
“Shhh... non c’è bisogno di parlare,” he said, barely audible. “No need to say anything. Just stay here with me.”
He opened his arms, motioning for them to lie beside him. They obeyed.
Despite asking for silence, he began to speak, his fingers gently threading through their hair, just like when they were small. His voice trembled, but the words were steady.
“I’m sorry I won’t be here for Franci and Ginny. Gabri, mi dispiace. I wanted to see them grow up.”
“Didn’t you say no talking?” Gabriella sniffled, her sarcasm cracking under the weight of tears. She rarely cried, and it undid Sofia to witness it.
“I can talk,” their father replied, with a flicker of a smile. “I’m the one dying.”
“Papà...” they both murmured again, voices sharp with ache.
He chuckled weakly, but the laughter twisted into a cough. Their mother helped him sit up, and gave him water.
“I just want to say goodbye properly,” he whispered, after recovering from the fit of cough. “Would you let me speak?”
They nodded.
“Take care of the girls,” he began. “Let them grow up in a world where their role models are a powerful, radiant abuela—” he glanced at their mother with deep warmth, “a brilliant, sharp zia, and a strong, unstoppable mamma. Don’t ever let them think they can’t become whatever they dream of.”
He paused. Breathed shallowly. His hand found Sofia’s.
“Sofi... tesoro. Keep your sensitivity alive. That’s what makes you a better scientist and a better human. You’ve always had the ocean inside you, that’s why you feel so deeply. That’s what I used to tell you, remember?”
She nodded, biting her lip, eyes shining.
“Never settle. And let Ilias help you. He’s a good man. I would have loved to see you marry him... maybe have kids, if that’s what you want.” Then he smirked faintly, a ghost of mischief. “But please, don’t ever name a child Antonio. It’s a terrible name for a kid these days.”
They laughed softly. The kind of laugh that breaks you more than tears.
“Gabri...” He turned to her sister. “Keep loving your girls. But remember yourself too. You are more than their mother. You are a brilliant lawyer. And, for the love of God, divorce Roberto. You deserve so much more.”
Her eyes widened in pure shock. In those days, they’ve never openly spoken with him about what was going on between Gabriella and Roberto. But Antonio Moretti knew, he knew his daughters like the back of his hands. He didn’t need to say anything, because he felt everything.
Gabriella just nodded, her chin firm.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “I’ll call my lawyer tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you your own lawyer?” Sofia asked, brows raised.
“To be a fucking scientist, sometimes I wonder how you even function in real life,” Gabriella muttered.
“María, amore mio,” their father said next, taking their mother’s hand, ignoring their bickering.
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she kept herself composed.
Her mother had always been a rock. She truly didn’t understand where her crying like a baby came from.
Even though her parents always pushed her to keep her tears flowing, never shaming her, they were not people to show emotions.
Not as much as she did. And even in a situation in which her husband was going to die, her mother kept her chin high, her smile soft, yet her brown eyes shimmered.
Her father continued. “I’m sorry to make you go through this. You deserved better. If one day the chance comes, and you find love again... marry. Please.”
“Ya tengo todo lo que necesito,” her mother whispered, stroking his cheek. She had everything he needed. “Mi familia. Mi amor. No necesito nada más.” Her family. Her love. She didn’t need anything more.
Her voice was firm, but her chin started to wobble. She meant it. But they all knew what he meant too. When he left, it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing would.
After a long silence, his voice returned.
“Ah, Sofi. Drop that TerraVive merda. You don’t need them. You never have. You’re capable of building anything, on your own.”
Sofia gave a soft smile. “They already dropped me, Papà.”
“Not officially. Make a statement. Use me. Use my death, if you must. Get the world on your side.”
“Papà...” she whispered.
“Do it, Sofi. It’s my last wish.”
She rolled her eyes, but tears gathered again.
“In truth,” he added, voice breaking, “my real last wish is selfish. Don’t forget me. Don’t forget me like in that movie Coco. That’s my worst nightmare.”
“Mai, papà. Non ti dimenticheremo mai.”
They all whispered it. Promised. How could they ever forget the man who showed them what love looked like?
Silence settled again, thick and sacred. His breathing grew slow. Gentle, as he drifted to sleep.
Maybe, she thought, just maybe, it wasn’t tonight. Maybe it was another false alarm. Her mother beckoned them gently back to bed, and Sofia let herself believe it for a moment longer.
But in the morning, he was gone.