POV: Sofia
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Two under two was chaos.
Beautiful, exhausting, overwhelming chaos.
Elena was nine months old, crawling everywhere, pulling herself up on furniture, trying desperately to keep up with her sister. Luna was three, talking in full sentences, asking questions I couldn't answer, testing boundaries I didn't know existed.
"How do you do it?" Sasha asked one afternoon, watching me chase both girls through the garden.
"I don't know. Coffee? Desperation? Love?"
Sasha laughed. "Honesty. I appreciate that."
Her son, Marco Jr., was two now—a quiet boy who observed everything with his father's eyes and his mother's stubborn chin. He sat in the grass, watching Luna and Elena with fascination.
"They're going to be trouble," Sasha said.
"The girls?"
"All of them. They're going to grow up together, run this neighborhood, cause absolute mayhem."
I looked at my daughters—Luna, fierce and bright, already leading; Elena, determined, already following—and smiled.
"Good trouble," I said.
"The best kind."
---
ANTONIO
The girls were different in every way.
Luna was me—intense, focused, watching everything with eyes that missed nothing. Elena was Sofia—warm, open, smiling at everyone she met.
"They're perfect," Sofia said, watching them play.
"They're ours."
"They're ours." She leaned against me. "Do you ever think about what they'll be like? When they're older?"
"Every day."
"What do you see?"
I watched Luna teaching Elena how to stack blocks. Watched Elena knock them over, laughing. Watched Luna laugh too, not frustrated, just happy.
"I see them being close," I said. "I see them protecting each other. I see them growing up in a world that doesn't hurt them."
Sofia was quiet for a moment. "You think we can give them that?"
"I think we have to try."
She kissed my cheek. "We will."
---
SOFIA
The first fight happened on a Tuesday.
Elena was one. Luna was three and a half. The cause: a stuffed rabbit that both of them wanted at the same time.
"Mine," Luna said, grabbing it.
"Mine," Elena echoed, grabbing back.
Luna pulled. Elena pulled harder. The rabbit tore.
Luna stared at the pieces in her hands. Elena stared at the pieces in hers. And then they both started screaming.
I knelt between them, took the pieces, held them up.
"Look," I said. "Look what happened."
They looked. They stopped screaming.
"We don't fight over toys," I said. "We share. We take turns. We play together."
"But she took it," Luna said.
"You both took it. Neither of you shared." I set the pieces down. "So now the rabbit is broken. No one gets it. And tomorrow, we'll try again."
Luna looked at the pieces. Elena looked at Luna.
"Sorry," Luna whispered.
"Sorry," Elena echoed.
They hugged. I watched them, my heart full.
---
ANTONIO
Carlo came for Luna's fourth birthday.
He was different now—steady, reliable, the kind of man I'd never thought he could be. His construction company was thriving. He'd bought a house. He was even dating someone, though he wouldn't tell Sofia who.
"You're keeping secrets," Sofia said, watching him.
"I'm protecting my privacy."
"You're dating someone."
"I'm—" He stopped. Sighed. "Fine. I'm dating someone. But you don't get to meet her until I'm sure."
"Sure of what?"
"Sure she's the one."
Sofia's eyes widened. "The one?"
"Don't make a thing of it." He held up a hand. "It's early. It might not work out. I just—I wanted to tell you. Because you're my sister. And I don't want to keep secrets from you anymore."
Sofia hugged him. I watched her brother—the man who'd almost destroyed us, who'd spent years rebuilding himself—hold her like she was the most precious thing in his life.
"She's lucky," I said later, when Sofia was putting Luna to bed.
"Who?"
"Whoever she is. The woman he's dating." I looked at Carlo, playing with Elena in the garden. "He's not the man he was."
"No," Sofia agreed. "He's not."
---
SOFIA
Luna's birthday party was a garden party.
We'd set up tables in the yard, strung lights in the trees, made enough food for an army. Luna ran through it all like a queen surveying her kingdom, accepting gifts, eating cake, making sure everyone was having fun.
Elena followed her everywhere.
"They're inseparable," my mother said, watching them.
"They always have been."
"It's going to be hard when they get older. When they have their own lives. Their own families."
I looked at my daughters—Luna, helping Elena with her juice box; Elena, watching Luna like she was the most important person in the world—and felt something bittersweet in my chest.
"That's a long way off," I said.
"It goes faster than you think."
My mother put her arm around me, and for a moment, I was small again. A child in her garden, playing with my brother, not knowing what the future held.
"I'm proud of you," she said quietly. "The life you've built. The family you've made."
"I had help."
"You had love. That's what matters."