From Now On I Grow Toward Spring Chapter 03
It was late when Matteo finally came back to the room.
I kept my back to him, my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.
He walked to the bed, brushed the tip of my nose with his finger, and sighed.
“Why are you so jealous? You get angry over the smallest things.”
With that, he pulled me into his arms and was soon breathing evenly, asleep.
He never saw the tears that slipped from the corners of my eyes.
I lay awake for hours, my gaze drifting to the photos on the wall.
Sixty-four photos in total.
Forty-four were of him and Sofia together.
Nineteen were solo shots he had taken of Sofia.
Only one was our wedding photo.
And even that was tucked away in the bottom corner.
My mother had rearranged them the last time she’d visited, saying the prettiest photos should be in the center.
Matteo hadn’t objected.
I finally drifted off just before dawn, only to be shaken awake by Matteo a short time later.
“Talia, why aren’t you up making breakfast? Sofia’s croissants aren’t even in the oven yet.”
He stood over the bed, his expression disapproving.
I didn’t answer. I got up, dressed, and only then did I look at him.
“Am I her nanny?”
He froze, his lips tightening.
My mother, who was pouring juice for Sofia in the kitchen, heard me and snorted.
“It’s just breakfast. You won’t even do that? Sofia’s health is poor. You should be taking better care of her.”
My father frowned. “If we hadn’t been staying here these past few weeks to keep Sofia company, we never would have known this is how you treat her.”
Sofia said softly, “It’s okay. This is my sister’s home, after all. We should do what she says.”
Matteo frowned and pulled her over to the head of the table.
“What do you mean, her home? This is your home, too.”
My parents immediately echoed him. “That’s right. Whatever your sister has, you have, too.”
I clenched my fists and slowly nodded.
Yes.
This was her home. And his home.
It just wasn’t mine anymore.
I picked up my bag and turned to leave.
I didn’t expect Matteo to walk into my office later that day with Sofia in tow.
He was blunt, his tone leaving no room for discussion.
“Talia, your parents want me to find Sofia a job. I’m making her my executive assistant. You can move to reception for now. She’ll take this office.”
Before I could say anything, a series of messages lit up my phone.
In the “Marino Family” group chat, my mother had sent three messages in a row.
“Sofia’s health is bad. From now on, just do her work for her, too. Reply when you see this.”
I glanced at her profile picture and smiled.
It was a photo of the three of them. My father, my mother, and Sofia.
No me.
I muted the chat, looked up at Sofia standing behind Matteo with her chin held high, and said, “Fine.”
He seemed a little surprised, then patted my shoulder.
“Once Sofia figures out what she really wants to do, I’ll move you back.”
I stepped away from his hand and said nothing.
A top law firm in Austin had offered me a position right out of school.
But I’d followed him to New York, gotten married, and ended up helping him with operations in his department instead.
If Sofia wanted it, she could have it.
I was leaving anyway.
Matteo gestured for his staff to help move my things.
He stayed by Sofia’s side, arranging the books on her new shelf himself.
Blushing, Sofia went over to help. “It’s all because I’m so useless. Now you have to take care of me, too.”
Matteo glanced at me, a silent warning in his eyes, before smiling at her.
“As long as I’m here, you don’t have to worry about a thing.”
The next second, Sofia’s foot slipped and she stumbled into the flowerpot on my desk.
The pot crashed to the floor, scattering dirt and shattered ceramic.
The orchid inside was a gift from Matteo when we got married.
Our wedding date was engraved on the pot.
The varietal was rare, and he had flown all the way to Southern California to bring the seedling back himself.
He’d said then that caring for a flower took patience, just like loving someone—and that he would always take care of me.
Two days ago, it had opened its fifth bloom.
Now, it was destroyed.
I looked at the fragments on the floor, my throat tightening.
“Matteo…”
But he had already swept Sofia into his arms.
“She cut her hand. I’m taking her to the hospital.”
And with that, he carried her out.
He didn’t even look back.
I stood there, staring at the broken flower on the floor.
It was my assistant who noticed something was wrong.
“Talia, your leg is cut, too. Do you want to go to the hospital?”
I glanced down.
A long gash ran down my calf.
I smiled. “It’s fine.”
I packed up my things, leaving nothing behind.
Only a single drop of my blood remained on the floor.
I checked the time and called a car to the hospital.
As I was signing the surgical consent form, Matteo called.
“Talia, are you okay? I didn’t get a chance to ask earlier.”
That hint of concern, that almost-kindness, nearly made me hesitate.
But in the very next second, he said, “If you’re fine, remember to clean up those broken pieces. Don’t let Sofia get cut again. Her heart can’t take the shock.”