The house was alive with quiet anticipation. Boxes of flowers filled the hallway, ribbons lay scattered across the floor, and soft laughter drifted from the room at the end of the hall, the one Sofia had claimed for Clara.
She stood on a small step stool, pinning a string of pastel paper butterflies to the wall above the bed when Gwen walked in, holding a bouquet of folded linens.
"Wow," Gwen breathed, looking around. "It's beautiful, Sof."
The room was a dream of soft pinks and whites, a tiny bookshelf stacked with fairy tales, a small table set beside the window where sunlight poured in, and a framed painting of a heart-shaped cloud that Sofia had picked herself.
Sofia turned with a grin, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "You really think so?"
"Think so?" Gwen laughed, setting the linens down. "Clara's going to love this. I mean, look at it, it's like stepping into a storybook."
