As Ire hurried back toward the stairs, she grabbed a glass of orange juice from the dining table. At the exact same moment, Derin stepped out of her room carrying her laptop. Neither of them saw the schoolbag lying carelessly on the floor.

Ire's foot caught the strap. Everything happened at once. The glass slipped from her hand. The bright orange juice arced through the air. Splash. The liquid soaked every page of Derin's project. Derin stared. Ire stared.

The pages slowly curled as the juice spread across the ink, smudging words that had taken hours to perfect.
"I..." Ire's voice trembled. "I'm so sorry."
Derin didn't answer. She picked up one page after another. Sleepless nights. Gone.
"I said I'm sorry," Ire repeated, taking a cautious step forward.

"Don't." Derin's voice was quiet. Too quiet. 
"I didn't mean to—"
"I said don't."
The room froze.
Gbemi looked up from the kitchen.

Irawo slowly closed her notebook.
"I didn't do it on purpose," Ire whispered.
Derin laughed. A short, bitter laugh. "Of course you didn't."

"I really didn't."
"You never mean to do anything, do you?" The words landed harder than either of them expected.

Ire blinked. "What does that mean?"

"It means someone is always cleaning up after you. Someone is always fixing your mistakes."

"I apologized."
"And that changes everything?"
"I said I was sorry!"

Derin's voice finally rose.
"Sorry doesn't bring back three nights of work, Ire!"

The younger girl swallowed hard. "I'll help you redo it."

"Redo it?" Derin looked at her in disbelief. "You think it's that easy?"

"I just—"
"No, you don't think! That's the problem. You behave as though the world revolves around you because you're the last born."

Ire's eyes widened. "You know that's not true."

"Oh, isn't it?"

"You don't mean that."

"I mean every word."

The younger girl's voice cracked. "You're just angry."

"And you are just irresponsible."

"I said I was sorry!"

"And I'm tired of hearing it!"

The sentence echoed through the hallway. Tears welled in Ire's eyes. "You know what?" Derin continued. "I don't even blame you," Derin said bitterly. "It's because we all live under the same roof. You've become too comfortable."

Ire lowered her gaze. Derin marched toward her room. The door slammed. For a long moment. No one spoke. Ire stood motionless, staring at the pieces of glass on the floor. Then she whispered to herself,

"It really was an accident." Without another word, she walked upstairs to her room. She closed the door gently. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her phone.
After a few seconds, she opened a game. Not because she wanted to play. Because she didn't want to cry.

Downstairs, Gbemi quietly swept up the broken glass.
Irawo looked toward the closed door upstairs. She sighed.
Her journal lay open beside her. She added another sentence beneath the first. 
"Sometimes the loudest sound in a house is silence."

A few minutes later, a knock came at Ire's bedroom door.
She quickly wiped her eyes. "Come in." It was the housekeeper, Mrs Bisi. "Your father would like to see you in his study." Ire's stomach tightened. She nodded. "Tell him... I'll be there."

As she walked down the hallway toward the study, every step felt heavier than the last. The polished wooden door stood slightly open. She knocked softly. "Daddy?" 
A warm voice answered from inside. "Come in, my dear."
She took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Chief Adebayo Mofolawe looked up from the book in his hands and smiled warmly. "There you are." Ire forced a small smile. "You wanted to see me?"
"I did." He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. "Sit."

She lowered herself into the chair, folding her hands in her lap. Chief adjusted his glasses and looked at his daughter carefully. "I heard raised voices," he said gently. He paused. He leaned back in his chair. "Tell me what happened"

Ire stared at her hands. "I spilled juice on Derin's project." Chief nodded quietly, saying nothing. "It was an accident. I tripped over a schoolbag." Her voice shook. "She had worked on it for days, Daddy. I ruined everything."

Tears blurred her vision. "I kept saying I was sorry, but... she wouldn't listen." Chief reached across the table and handed her a box of tissues. She smiled weakly. "Thank you."

"When you apologised," he asked softly, "what happened next?"
"I told her I'd help her do it again."
"And?"
"She said I never think before I act."

The words stung even as she repeated them. "I know she was angry..." A tear escaped despite her efforts to stop it.
"...but it hurt." Chief nodded with understanding. "I can imagine."

He allowed the silence to linger. After a while, he reached for the Bible resting on his desk. "Ire..."
"Yes, Daddy?"
"I want us to read something together." He opened the worn pages and turned the Bible to 1 Corinthians 13:4–7 so she could read.

"'Love is patient,'" she began softly."'Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered...'"