Sofia didn't speak to us for three days.
She went to school. Came home. Did her homework in her room with the door locked. Ate dinner in silence. Avoided eye contact.
It was torture.
"She needs time," Rosa kept telling me. "She's processing. Give her space."
"I don't want to give her space. I want to fix this."
"You can't fix it by forcing her to talk before she's ready."
But waiting was killing me.
On the fourth day, I couldn't take it anymore. I knocked on Sofia's door after dinner.
"Go away."
"Sofia, please. We need to talk."
"I don't want to talk to you."
"I understand. But I'm going to talk anyway. You don't have to respond. Just please listen."
Silence. But she didn't tell me to leave again.
I sat outside her door, back against the wall, and started talking.
"When I was eighteen years old, my mother sold me at an auction. Did you know that?
That's how I met your father. I was auctioned off like property, and he bought me for fifty thousand dollars."
