Each morning, she observed Caroline closely.
At precisely nine, Caroline poured orange juice into a glass, unlocked a cabinet, removed a small brown bottle, and added several drops. She would taste the juice herself, make a faint face, then discard the spoon.
Sofia recognized those bottles.
She had seen them at the hospital when her grandmother was dying.
They weren’t vitamins.
One afternoon, Sofia climbed onto a chair and peeked inside the cabinet.
Five brown bottles.
The labels were too long for her to read — but she didn’t need to read them.
Later, she sniffed the discarded spoon.
Bitter. Sharp. Wrong.
She told her mother.
Maria shook her head anxiously. “Don’t say things like that,” she whispered. “We can’t lose this job.”
Sofia stopped talking.
But she kept watching.
And Jonathan kept getting worse.
On the fourth morning, Sofia decided she couldn’t stay quiet.
She slipped away and ran into the bedroom just as Caroline lifted the glass to Jonathan’s lips.
“Stop!” Sofia cried. “You’re going to get better!”
The glass crashed to the floor.
Caroline exploded with fury.
But Jonathan felt something unfamiliar.
Clarity.
For the first time in months, his thoughts felt sharp.