Fractured Bond

The sound of laughter drifted from the living room.

Sophia paused at the top of the staircase, her fingers tightening around the banister. That was John’s voice. And a girl’s.

Frowning, she descended the stairs. The moment she stepped into the living room, her stomach twisted in anger.

John was sprawled on the couch, one arm lazily draped over a girl with sleek braids and red lipstick. They looked comfortable, at ease, like they belonged there.

Sophia gritted her teeth.“Who’s this?” the girl asked, studying Sophia with mild curiosity.

John smirked. “My sister.” Sophia crossed her arms. “What is she doing here?”

John arched his brow. “Visiting. What does it look like?” Sophia’s pulse raced. “Dad would lose his mind if he saw this.”

John laughed, shaking his head. “Good thing he won’t.”

A cold chill settled in Sophia’s chest. “Where is he?”

“Business meeting. Won’t be back till tomorrow morning.”

Sophia turned to Peter’s usual spot, but it was empty. “And Peter?”

John smirked. “Sleepover at a friend’s house.”

Sophia’s breath hitched. So, Peter, the youngest, was trusted to sleep elsewhere, and John could openly bring a girlfriend home, but she, Sophia, couldn’t even have a normal conversation with a boy?

Something snapped inside her.

She turned to John, eyes blazing. “You have the nerve to bring a girl into this house when you spend every day making my life hell? You report everything I do, treat me like a criminal, and yet you’re here, doing the exact thing I would get locked up for?”

John rolled his eyes. “You always make everything about yourself.”

Sophia’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t get to say that to me! Do you know what it’s like to live as a prisoner in your own home? To have every move watched? Every choice made for you?!”

John’s expression darkened. “Maybe if you weren’t such a—”

“Such a what?” Sophia snapped. She stepped forward, her voice rising. “A girl? Is that what this is about? Because I’m a girl, I don’t get to live? I don’t get to breathe?”

John scoffed. “You know why you’re treated differently.”

Sophia’s voice cracked. “Because of her, right? Because of Mom?”

The air turned heavy.

John’s jaw clenched. “You know what happened.”

Sophia’s chest ached, but the anger burned brighter. “You blame me, don’t you?” Her voice shook. “You enjoy watching me suffer because you think I deserve it. You think I killed her.”

John didn’t respond.

That silence was worse than any insult.

Sophia let out a bitter laugh. “You’re pathetic.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Watch yourself, Sophia.”

“Or what? You’ll run to Daddy? Go ahead. Tell him his wayward daughter spoke back to his precious son. She stepped closer, her voice venomous. “You’re a coward, John. You don’t have a spine, so you hide behind Dad’s rules. You let him control me while you live freely.”

John’s expression wavered, but he quickly masked it with indifference.

Sophia shook her head. “You make me sick.”

She turned sharply, storming up the stairs.

John’s voice followed her. “You think you’re the only one suffering, Sophia?”

She froze.

“You act like you’re the only one who lost her,” he continued, his voice cold. "You’re not. You’re just the one who needed saving that day.”

Sophia’s vision blurred.

She didn’t turn back.

She didn’t say another word.

She slammed her bedroom door shut and crumbled against it.

Her chest heaved, rage and grief twisting inside her like a storm. She grabbed the nearest object—a book—and hurled it across the room. It smacked against the wall, falling lifelessly to the floor.

Tears burned her eyes.

She wanted it all to stop.

Her trembling hands reached for her desk, fingers fumbling until they found the sharpener. With shaking precision, she pried it apart. The small blade fell into her palm, glinting under the dim light.

For a second, she hesitated.

Then she pressed it against her wrist.

A thin line of red surfaced.

A strange calm settled over her.

For the first time in a long while, the pain made sense.

The world was a blur when she woke up.

Bright hospital lights. The steady beeping of a machine. A dull ache in her wrist.

And then, her father.

Osagie sat beside her, his face unreadable. But there was something different in his eyes.

Not just anger. Something else. Something close to fear.

“Sophia,” he murmured. His voice was rough, like he had been speaking to himself for hours. “Why?”

She turned her head away.

He let out a shaky breath. “I should have seen this coming.” Sophia’s heart pounded. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t scolding her.

For the first time in years, Osagie looked…lost.

The door creaked open, and a nurse stepped in. “She needs rest,” she said gently.

Osagie gave a slow nod, running a hand over his face.

Sophia closed her eyes, exhaustion weighing her down.

For the first time, she felt the tiniest shift.

Maybe… just maybe… something had cracked in her father’s armor.

The next day, John arrived.

With gifts.

Sophia stared at the box of chocolates, the bouquet of flowers, and the small wrapped package on her bedside table.

She scoffed. “What is this?” John shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just…” He trailed off.

Sophia picked up the chocolates, turning them over in her hands. “You think gifts fix this?”

John exhaled, rubbing his neck. “No.”

Silence stretched between them. Sophia narrowed her eyes. “Then why are you here?”

John hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Her lips trembled, but she forced herself to stay composed. “You’re a liar, John. You’ve always been a liar.”

John swallowed hard. “I didn’t… I didn’t think it was this bad.”Sophia let out a bitter chuckle. “You didn’t think at all.”

John’s gaze dropped to her wrist, wrapped in fresh bandages. His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to say somet

Instead, he muttered, “Get some rest,” before walking out.

Sophia let out a shaky breath. Maybe that was the closest thing to an apology she’d ever get.

That evening, she was staring out the window when a voice broke her thoughts.

“You look like you could use a friend.” She turned. A girl stood at the doorway. She had short curls, deep brown skin, and a playful glint in her eyes.

“I’m Ada,” she said, stepping inside. “They put me in the room next door. Thought I’d say hi.”

Sophia blinked. “Hi.” Ada plopped into the chair beside her bed, completely at ease. “So, what’s your story?”

Sophia hesitated. No one had ever asked her that before.

She studied Ada’s curious expression, the way she seemed unafraid of whatever answer might come.

And for the first time…

Sophia considered telling the truth.