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There’s soup and bread, and everything looks normal, but something about the way Nonna sets her own plate down makes my chest feel strange.

When she does sit, she doesn’t pick up her spoon.

“Child,” she says, voice calm but heavy. “You’ll be going to Germany.”

I stop completely.

The words don’t land right. For a moment, I’m not even sure I heard them properly. I glance at Bea, then back at Nonna.

“To… where?”

“Germany,” she says again. “You’ll be leaving in three days. I’ll go with you.”

I stare at her. My spoon is still resting in the bowl, untouched.

“For what?”

“To study,” she says plainly. “You’ll be enrolling in college there.”

College?

I feel my chest tighten. “But I’ve never planned—”

“You don’t need to plan. We’ll take care of everything once we arrive.”

My eyes flick to Bea again, hoping for help, for a smile or a joke. But she’s not smiling and this is not a joke.

College?

That’s not for girls like me. Here, only the boys went. The ones who wanted to work in banks or become office men. Everyone knew that. The girls stayed back—helped their mothers, worked in shops, married early, raised children.

Even Bea, who was always the smart one—sharp-tongued and confident—used to say she’d go someday, but only when she could afford it on her own. She didn’t want to burden her mother. She’d laugh and say it was a future dream, not something meant for now.

But me?

I never even thought of it.

I only ever imagined staying here with Nonna. Helping her. Getting married someday. Having babies. Making a small life. I dreamed of Nonna living with me in my future house, sitting on a chair by the window with a knitting basket on her lap and warm slippers on her feet.

That was all I ever wanted.

Not Germany. Not college.

“Nonna…” My voice is thin. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s time,” she says.

“But why now?” I ask, heart thudding. “You’ve never spoken about college before.”

Bea drops her gaze to her lap. Her fingers grip the edge of the tablecloth, knuckles white.

“You’ll go,” Nonna says. “Three days is enough to say goodbye to your friends.”

It hits harder this time. Not just leaving—leaving fast. Like being pulled from the roots.

My eyes sting. “Are you sending me away because you’re tired of me?”

Nonna’s eyes narrow slightly, but not with anger. Just something deeper. Something I don’t understand.