Chapter 47 - The Color of Morning
Sunlight broke through the heavy rain clouds by mid-morning, casting long, golden rays through the brownstone's reinforced windows.
Sofia woke up slowly, blinking against the bright light. She sat up in the massive bed, looking around the unfamiliar room. The panic that usually accompanied her waking moments was absent. Instead, she smelled the faint, comforting aroma of toasted vanilla and lavender.
Maya was asleep in the armchair, a wool blanket draped over her.
Sofia slipped out of bed, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. She padded over to the small wooden desk in the corner. There, neatly laid out, was a fresh yellow pad of lined paper and a brand-new box of Crayola crayons.
She pulled out a deep emerald green crayon.
When Maya finally woke, she found Sofia sitting on the floor by her feet, humming softly to herself. On the yellow pad, Sofia had drawn a large, sprawling green tree. Underneath the tree, she had drawn three stick figures: a tall one in black, a small one in a yellow dress, and another in a yellow uniform.
"Good morning, little bird," Maya said, her voice scratchy.
Sofia looked up, a bright, genuine smile breaking across her face—the first true smile since her mother’s death six months ago.
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"I drew us," Sofia said, her voice no longer a rusty whisper, but the clear, ringing tone of a child who had found her voice. "Papa, me, and Maya."
The bedroom door opened, and Dante leaned against the frame, holding two mugs of black coffee. He looked at the drawing, then at Maya, his heart visibly expanding in his chest. The abyss that had consumed his life was finally closed.
