90. Sofia's Back.

Elena.

I watched nervously as Sofia stepped through the threshold of our house, her grip tight on a small, weathered suitcase. Memories of the past flooded my mind, reminding me of the trouble she had caused before. Sofia had always viewed me as a rival, even when all I wanted was to be her friend. And now, here she stood, returning to our home as if nothing had ever happened.

As I greeted her with a forced smile, I couldn't help but notice her meticulously styled hair and perfectly manicured nails. It was as if she had stepped out of a fashion magazine, her appearance dazzling and polished. It struck me how effortlessly she carried herself, oozing confidence and an air of superiority. It was no wonder people were drawn to her.

I cautiously offered to assist Sofia in getting settled into her new room, which was located in a secluded part of the house. Madam Beatrice, always the fashion enthusiast, had claimed Sofia's old room for her ever-growing collection of designer items. It seemed like every week there was a new addition to her wardrobe, a constant stream of luxurious purchases that occupied every inch of space.

Upon reaching Sofia's new room, I swung open the door, revealing a cozy haven. The soft hues of the walls and the plush bedding created an inviting atmosphere. A desk sat by the window, offering a picturesque view of the manicured gardens outside. It was a room fit for a princess, a stark contrast to the storage space the former one had become.

As Sofia unpacked her belongings, I decided to take the plunge and break the silence.

"So, Sofia, it's good to have you back," I said, my voice attempting to strike a balance between politeness and curiosity. "But I can't help but wonder, what made you decide to return?"

Sofia turned to face me, her eyes briefly flickering with a mix of surprise and wariness. She seemed momentarily caught off guard, as if she hadn't expected me to address the issue so directly. After a moment of hesitation, she composed herself and met my gaze.

"Elena, I understand why you might be skeptical," Sofia began, her voice soft yet filled with a hint of conviction. "I can't change what happened in the past, but I genuinely want to make amends. Life has a way of teaching us lessons, and I've come to realize the importance of forgiveness and second chances."

I listened intently, trying to gauge the sincerity behind her words. It was a delicate dance between wanting to believe her and protecting myself from further heartache. Sofia continued, her tone earnest.

"I want us to put the past behind us, Elena," she said, her eyes searching mine for a flicker of understanding. "I've grown and changed during my time away. I've reflected on my actions, and I regret the way things unfolded between us. I genuinely want to build a better relationship with you, as friends."

Her words flowed effortlessly, accompanied by a disarming smile that could disarm even the most skeptical of minds. It was easy to get caught up in her charm, to momentarily forget the doubts that lingered in the back of my mind. Part of me wanted to believe her, to embrace the possibility of this unbelievable change she is talking about. But another part, scarred by past wounds, urged me to proceed with caution.

"I appreciate your apology, Sofia," I replied, my voice softening slightly. "But I hope you can understand that trust takes time to rebuild. I'm willing to give us a chance, to start anew. However, I need to see consistency in your actions, not just words."

Sofia nodded, a glimmer of determination in her eyes. "I completely understand, Elena. Actions do speak louder than words, and I'm committed to proving myself to you. I hope that, over time, we can develop a genuine friendship and put the past firmly behind us."

Even as she continued to apologize for her past behavior, I couldn't help but feel a pang of suspicion. Her contrition seemed rehearsed, as if she had meticulously planned every word to win me over. I accepted her apology with cautious gratitude, but a part of me remained on guard, unwilling to fully trust her sudden change of heart.

Once we finished organizing her new room, I discreetly glanced at my watch, fabricating an urgent excuse to leave. Sofia, with her piercing eyes and newfound warmth, tried to convince me to stay, to prolong our interaction. But I had seen enough of the facade, and I yearned for a moment of respite from the tension that now filled the air.

I couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling that lingered in my gut ever since Sofia's return. It wasn't that I didn't want her around, but something about her presence made me feel on edge. I kept these thoughts to myself, not wanting to upset Deangelo or spoil the happiness of the kids and Madam Beatrice. Deep down, though, I knew that things felt safer when Sofia was away.

I questioned my own instincts, wondering if I was just being paranoid or if there was something more to Sofia's return. Her sudden apology and friendly gestures seemed too good to be true, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was all a facade. My mind raced with questions: What was she really up to? Was she trying to cause trouble again? I resolved to trust my instincts, no matter how unfounded they may seem, and keep a watchful eye on Sofia.

Despite my unease, Deangelo and I continued our secret relationship, always cautious not to be discovered by anyone in the pack. He surprised me with a romantic dinner date, a gesture meant to make me feel special. But even as he unveiled the setup, my heart failed to embrace the moment with the same joy and gratitude I usually felt. Instead, a sense of discomfort washed over me.

The soft flickering candlelight and the thoughtfulness behind Deangelo's efforts should have made me feel elated, but my mind couldn't escape the cloud of unease that Sofia's presence had cast over me. Deangelo beamed at me, completely unaware of the turmoil inside. He pulled out my chair and sat across from me, excitedly sharing the details of his preparations. But my attention wandered, my thoughts consumed by Sofia and the mysteries surrounding her return.

I tried to focus on the conversation, sipping the wine Deangelo poured for me, but my mind kept drifting. I knew I had to find a way to navigate this delicate situation, to protect myself and the fragile happiness we had found in our secret relationship. Little did I know that the challenges we faced would only grow more complicated as time went on.

I tried my best to push aside the nagging feeling of unease and focus on the present. The food before me was absolutely delicious, just like every meal Deangelo prepared for me. Tonight's dinner felt extra special though, like he had gone above and beyond to make it perfect.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake off that lingering sense of discomfort. I should have been grateful for this romantic gesture, but something just didn't feel right. Was it because of Sofia's sudden return? Or maybe it was the way Deangelo had been acting lately, so serious and intense about our relationship.

I took a deep breath, attempting to center myself and engage in the conversation. Deangelo shared stories about his day, and I tried my best to listen attentively. However, my mind kept wandering, unable to stay focused in the moment. As we finished the delicious dessert, Deangelo took my hand and locked eyes with me. "I love you, Elena," he whispered in a husky voice.

I should have felt overjoyed, but instead, guilt washed over me. Guilt for not fully appreciating his romantic gesture. Guilt for feeling unsettled despite his efforts to make me happy. Guilt for receiving such love and care when my own family had caused so much pain to his.

I managed to force a smile and leaned in for a kiss, hoping that the physical connection would reignite the spark of love and happiness within me. And for a fleeting moment, it did. The touch of his lips on mine sent a shiver down my spine, and a flicker of passion ignited inside me.

However, as the night progressed and we made our way back home, the uneasiness settled back in. I knew deep down that I needed to talk to Deangelo about how I was feeling, but I didn't want to ruin the beautiful moment we had shared. So instead, I plastered on a smile and held his hand tightly, pretending that everything was okay. But inside, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss, and I sensed that change was looming on the horizon, for better or for worse.