Too quiet.
I’m still holding my mother’s photograph, still tracing her smile with my finger, when I hear my father’s voice echo through the house.
“Aitana!
Come down here!
They’re here!” My heart sinks.
My stomach twists into a knot.
I knew this day was coming.
I’ve been preparing for it for weeks.
But now that it’s here, I feel like I’m not ready.
Like I’ll never be ready.
I look at my mother’s face one last time.
Her blue eyes stare back at me, full of love and warmth.
Full of everything I’m about to lose.
“I’m sorry, Mami,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry I can’t stop this.” I place the photograph gently on my nightstand.
I take a deep breath.
I smooth down my dress and run my fingers through my dark curls.
I force my face into something calm, something pleasant, something that doesn’t show how much I’m hurting.
I am Aitana Fernandez.
I am the princess of this club.
And princesses don’t show weakness.
I walk out of my room and down the hallway.
My feet feel heavy on the wooden floor.
Each step takes me closer to the living room, closer to the strangers who are about to become my family.
The living room is warm and bright.
The afternoon sun streams through the windows, casting golden light on the furniture.
My father is sitting on the sofa, his tall frame taking up most of the space.
He’s smiling.
He’s actually smiling.
And across from him, sitting on the other sofa, are Isabella and Elena.
Isabella is beautiful.
I can see that immediately.
She’s in her early fifties, with thick, wavy black hair streaked with silver that she keeps in a tight bun.
Her dark, sharp eyes miss nothing.
She’s wearing a simple but elegant dress, and her posture is perfect, like she’s been trained to sit in rooms like this her whole life.
Elena is younger, around my age.
She has wild, curly black hair that falls around her shoulders like a cloud.
Her hazel green eyes are wide and watchful, taking in everything around her.
She’s wearing paint-stained jeans and a loose shirt, like she’s been creating something beautiful.
She looks sweet.
Innocent.
Harmless.
Elena is the first to notice me.
Her face lights up with a bright smile.
Her voice is soft and warm, like honey.
“You must be Aitana,” she says, standing up from the sofa.
“I’ve heard so much about you.
You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” I blink, caught off guard by her warmth.
She seems so genuine.
So kind.
She seems sweet, I think to myself.
Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice coming out softer than I intended.
“It’s nice to meet you, Elena.” She crosses the room and takes my hands in hers.
Her fingers are warm and gentle.
She squeezes them like we’re already friends.
“I’ve always wanted a sister,” she says, her eyes shining.
“I hope we can be close.
Really close.” I feel something shift in my chest.
A small flicker of hope.
Maybe I was wrong to be afraid.
Maybe this could be a good thing.
Before I can respond, Isabella rises from the sofa.
She walks toward me with measured steps, her heels clicking against the floor.
Her smile is warm, but there’s something behind it.
Something I can’t quite name.
“Aitana,” she says, her voice smooth and polished.
“I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.
Rafael has told me so much about you.
You’re his pride and joy.” I force a smile.
“Thank you, Isabella.
I’ve heard a lot about you too.” She laughs, a light and airy sound.
“Oh Please, call me step-mum.
We’re family now.
You don’t need to be formal with me.” She reaches out and places her hand on my shoulder.
Her touch is gentle, but it feels heavy.
Like she’s claiming something.
“I want you to know,” she says, her eyes locking onto mine, “that I’m here for you.
If you’re ever feeling sad about your mother, or if you ever need someone to talk to, you can come to me.
I know I can never replace her.
But I want you to think of me as your own mother.
Someone who loves you.
Someone who cares.” My blood runs cold.
She’s been here for five minutes, I think, my anger rising like a wave.
She’s been here for five minutes, and she’s already trying to take my mother’s place.
She’s already trying to erase her memory.
I feel my jaw tighten.
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
The anger is so hot, so sharp, that I can barely contain it.
How dare she.
How dare she stand in my mother’s home, in my mother’s living room, and talk about replacing her like it’s nothing.
I open my mouth to say something.
Something sharp.
Something cruel.
Something that will remind her exactly who she’s dealing with.
But before I can speak, my father’s voice cuts through the tension.
“Aitana,” he says, his tone gentle but firm.
“They’ve just arrived.
They must be exhausted from the journey.
Why don’t you show them to their rooms?
Let them rest and settle in.” I look at him.
His eyes are soft, pleading.
He’s trying to keep the peace.
He’s trying to make this work.
And I can’t fight him.
Not now.
Not in front of them.
I force the anger down.
I swallow the words that are burning on my tongue.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Of course, Dad,” I say, my voice flat and hollow.
“I’ll show them to their rooms.” I turn and walk toward the staircase.
My footsteps are heavy, each one a small protest.
I can hear Isabella and Elena following behind me, their heels clicking against the floor.
“It’s such a beautiful home,” Isabella says, her voice echoing in the hallway.
“Rafael told me you helped decorate it.
You have such good taste, Aitana.” I don’t respond.
I just keep walking.
We reach the top of the stairs.
I stop in front of the guest room and push open the door.
“This is your room,” I say, gesturing inside.
“It’s not much, but it has a nice view of the garden.” Elena steps forward and peers inside.
Her eyes light up with genuine excitement.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, turning to me with a smile.
“Thank you, Aitana.
You’re so kind.” I force a smile.
“I’m glad you like it.” Isabella places a hand on my arm.
Her touch is cold, even through the fabric of my dress.
“Thank you, dear,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.
“We truly appreciate your hospitality.
I know this must be difficult for you.
Losing your mother and now…
well, having us here.
But I promise you, we’re going to be a family.
A real family.
And I’m going to love you like my own daughter.” I look at her.
Her eyes are warm and kind, but I see something else behind them.
Something calculating.
Something hungry.
She’s not here to be my mother, I realize.
She’s here to take everything.
My father.
My home.
My place in this family.
But I don’t say anything.
I just nod and step away from her.
“Get some rest,” I say, my voice hollow.
“Dinner will be ready in a few hours.” I walk back toward my room, my feet heavy on the wooden floor.
My heart is pounding in my chest.
My hands are shaking.
I close my bedroom door behind me and lean against it.
The tears come before I can stop them, hot and fast and uncontrollable.
I slide down the door and sit on the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees.
I bury my face in my arms and let myself cry.
It’s not fair, I think.
It’s not fair.
She’s only been here for a few minutes, and she’s already trying to take everything.
My mother’s memory.
My father’s love.
My home.
I think about Elena’s sweet smile.
Her warm voice.
Her promise to be a sister.
She seems so sweet, I think.
But something feels wrong.
Something doesn’t add up.
I can’t explain it.
I can’t put it into words.
But something about Isabella and Elena feels off.
Like they’re hiding something.
Like they’re playing a game that I don’t understand.
I think about my mother’s face.
Her smile.
Her warmth.
I won’t let them take you, Mami, I whisper.
I won’t let them forget you.
I won’t let them replace you.
I wipe my tears and push myself to my feet.
I walk to my nightstand and pick up my mother’s photograph.
I hold it to my chest and close my eyes.
I’ll protect your memory, Mami.
I’ll protect everything you love.
And I’ll never let them take it away from me.
I know, deep down, that things will never be the same.
I know that this is just the beginning.
I know that the war for my family, my home, my place in this world, has only just begun.
But I’m ready.
I’m Aitana Fernandez.
I’m the princess of this club.
And I don’t back down from a fight.