"Sabina, I can't believe you're only eighteen and already cook this well. My Maisie can barely wash vegetables. She can't even steam rice."
"If you like it, Godmother, I'll cook for you every day."
She shot me a smug glance.
"Maisie, you should learn from Sabina. When we're not home, all you do is order takeout. That's so unhealthy."
"Don't worry, Godfather. I can cook for Maisie from now on."
"Oh, by the way—you're leaving for your trip tomorrow, right?" She sighed wistfully. "I'm so jealous of Maisie. She gets to travel every break. The farthest I've ever been is from home to school."
My dad looked pained. He glanced at my mom. "Why don't we bring Sabina along?"
Before my mom could respond, Sabina's eyes welled with tears of excitement.
"Thank you, Godfather! Can I really go?"
She turned to my mom, hope shining in her face.
My mom's lips parted, then pressed together. "Let me check with the travel agency to see if there's still room."
A few minutes later, she returned. "I'm sorry, Sabina. The agency says the group is full. They can't add anyone else. Maybe next time—we'll take you next time."
Resentment flickered in Sabina's eyes, but she nodded. "Okay."