When the grilled cheese was golden brown and steaming, she didn’t put it on a china plate. She simply slid it onto a paper napkin, cut it into tiny, imperfect triangles, and walked toward the stairs. Alexander followed her, drawn by a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist. He stopped in the doorway of Sophia’s room, his heart hammering against his ribs, prepared for the usual rejection—the turning away, the silence, the crushing disappointment.
