Chapter 4 — Picking Up the Pieces

Margot

Sophia’s apartment was the antithesis of the Glass Chapel. The chapel had been all sleek surfaces and sterile perfection—a monument to control. Here, everything felt alive, chaotic in a way that was almost comforting. A turquoise throw blanket was draped haphazardly over a well-loved couch, and the coffee table was cluttered with a mix of children’s toys, coffee mugs, and a half-finished crossword puzzle. The faint hum of music floated from an old speaker in the corner, mingling with the warm, cinnamon-spiced scent of empanadas cooling on the counter. A pair of gold statement earrings—one shaped like a sunburst, the other a crescent moon—dangled from a hook by the kitchen door, as vibrant and mismatched as their owner.