Snow's Point of View:

The sun had started to dip low in the sky, casting soft shadows over the garden as I sat there, alone with my thoughts. Jacob's words echoed in my mind, and I couldn't help but replay them: "Just know they love you, Sophia. I watched you grow up, remember? Before everything changed."

Before everything changed. Those words lingered, twisting into a knot of questions that I wasn't sure I wanted answers to. I thought coming here would give me clarity, help me find some connection to my family. But instead, I felt further away from them than ever.

The silence around me was broken by the soft rustle of footsteps on the grass. I sat up, expecting to see one of my brothers or maybe Jacob coming back, but instead, it was Dimitrios, my oldest brother, approaching with his usual steady, almost cautious, walk.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, his voice low, as though he knew he was intruding on my solitude.

I shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Go ahead."

He settled down beside me, the faint smell of cologne and mint reaching me as he stretched his legs out on the grass.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, and I could feel the tension in the air, thick and unyielding.

"I know you're going through a lot," he finally said, his tone soft but careful, like he was stepping over glass. "And I know we haven't... made it any easier."

I let out a small, bitter laugh, surprising even myself. "You think?"

Dimitrios looked down, his jaw clenching slightly, but he didn't respond to the jab. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small photograph. "I found this in Dad's study," he said, holding it out to me.

Curious, I took it from him, my eyes widening as I recognized the woman in the picture. She had long, dark hair, like mine, and her eyes held the same shade of blue. My mother. She was smiling, holding a small bundle in her arms-a baby. Me.

"You look just like her," Dimitrios said quietly, almost to himself. "Same eyes, same stubborn chin." He chuckled, but it faded quickly. "You're more like her than you think."

The words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I felt a pang of something-pride? Sadness? I wasn't sure. "Why didn't anyone ever tell me?" I asked, my voice breaking slightly. "Why keep her a secret? Why... why send me away?"

Dimitrios took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the photograph. "Dad... he thought it would protect you. He wanted to keep you safe from... everything."

"From what?" I pressed, my frustration building. "From family? From knowing who I am?"

"It's not that simple, Snow," he replied, his tone pained. "Dad isn't the easiest person to understand. He doesn't always make the right choices, but... he thought he was doing what was best for you."

I looked away, my fingers clenching around the photograph. Part of me wanted to believe him, to believe that my father's intentions had been good. But the lies... they were hard to forgive.

"Jacob told me they love me," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "But how can I believe that when everything I know about them feels like a lie?"

Dimitrios reached over, placing a hand on my shoulder. "They do love you, Snow. We all do. We're just... a little broken, I guess. Everyone deals with loss in different ways. Dad... he couldn't handle losing Mom. So, he tried to protect you the only way he knew how."

I swallowed hard, feeling the anger and sadness swirl together, blurring the lines between right and wrong. I wanted to yell at them, to demand they make things right. But I knew there was nothing they could do. My mother was gone, and no amount of explanations could change that.

"Will you... tell me about her?" I asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

Dimitrios nodded, his face softening. "She was... stubborn, like you. Kind. And brave." He paused, a faint smile touching his lips. "She would have loved you, Snow. And she would have been so proud of the person you've become."

I felt a lump rise in my throat, but I swallowed it back, nodding. His words gave me a strange sense of comfort, like a glimpse of the mother I'd never known but had always missed.

We sat in silence, the two of us lost in our thoughts. The photograph felt warm in my hand, a fragile connection to a past I'd never known.

Eventually, Dimitrios stood up, brushing the grass from his jeans. "Take your time," he said, his voice gentle. "We're here when you're ready."

I watched him walk back to the house, his figure disappearing through the garden path. For the first time, I felt a small, hesitant spark of something new-hope, maybe. A chance to rebuild what was broken, to make sense of the pieces left behind.

As the sun began to set, I held the photograph tightly, letting the silence fill the empty spaces inside me.