Sophie's POV
The café was tucked away on a quiet side street, the kind of place that attracted more locals than tourists. I'd chosen it deliberately for its privacy—small tables spaced far apart, soft music playing in the background to muffle conversations. I arrived early, claiming a booth in the back corner, as far from the windows as possible.
My mother entered fifteen minutes later, her eyes scanning the room until they found me. She looked older somehow, the lines around her eyes more pronounced, her shoulders slightly stooped. The weight of decades of deception, I supposed. The weight of our broken family.
She slid into the booth across from me, setting her purse on the seat beside her. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the air between us thick with unspoken words and shared history.
"You're okay," she said finally, relief evident in her voice. "I was worried."
