9. Had I really treated her that badly?
Sophia's Pov:
I stood in front of the mirror wearing nothing but my bathrobe, staring at the clothes laid out on the bed.
Most of them were the same—
loose gowns, simple dresses, clothes chosen for comfort rather than style.
Clothes that screamed housewife.
I pushed them aside one by one until my eyes landed on an old pair of denim jeans and a loose white t-shirt.
I picked them up slowly.
It had been years since I had worn jeans.
For a moment, I just stood there holding them, memories flashing through my mind.
College days.
Carefree days.
Days when I still felt like myself.
Without overthinking, I changed into them.
Then I sat in front of the mirror and did some minimal makeup.
Nothing heavy.
Just enough to make myself look fresh.
Because I had spent the last five years mostly at home, I had taken care of my skin religiously.
Skincare had become one of the few things I did for myself.
My skin was soft, clear, and lighter than before from barely stepping out in the sun.
After getting ready, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection.
For the first time in years—
I saw me.
Not Adrian’s wife.
Not Lily’s mother.
Not the lonely woman trapped inside a mansion.
I saw the Sophia from college.
The girl who laughed freely.
The girl who had dreams.
The girl who still believed life could be beautiful.
The bedroom door burst open.
June walked in, then stopped dramatically.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh my God,” she said, placing a hand over her heart. “My old Sophia is finally back.”
I laughed softly.
She looked me up and down and grinned.
“I was literally tired of seeing you in those old mom outfits.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling.
“Very funny.”
She walked toward me and linked her arm with mine.
“Now tell me—are you ready for the best day ever?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“And what exactly are the plans?”
Her face lit up instantly.
“Okay, so first we’re going shopping because you desperately need new clothes.”
I laughed.
She continued excitedly,
“Then we go to the salon.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she ignored me.
“And then”—she wiggled her brows dramatically—“we end the night at a bar.”
I stared at her.
“A bar?”
“Yes, a bar,” she said proudly.
My smile faded slightly.
“June... all that sounds expensive.”
She frowned.
“I still have my savings,” I continued softly. “And my parents’ savings too, but I want to save that money for lawyer fees.”
June stared at me for two seconds.
Then she waved her hand dismissively.
“Relax. I’m paying.”
I blinked.
“No, I can’t let you—”
She cut me off immediately.
“You can and you will.”
Then she added proudly,
“I have coupons for the shopping mall and the salon.”
I couldn’t help smiling.
“And the owner of the shopping center is my client,” she continued. “So we’re getting a huge discount.”
I stared at her.
Then I stepped forward and hugged her tightly.
She laughed and hugged me back.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
And I meant it.
Because for the first time in a very long time—
I was excited.
For the first time in years, I felt light.
Happy.
Free.
And suddenly, I realized just how much of myself I had lost.
June pulled away and grinned.
“Come on, girl. Today is about getting your sparkle back.”
I smiled.
And for the first time in years—
the smile felt real.
---
Adrian’s POV:
After finding out that Sophia had left, I called Evan immediately.
I told him everything.
He listened quietly, then said,
“Wait.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“If Sophia really wants a divorce, she’ll contact you.”
I leaned back in my chair.
That made sense.
If she wanted to talk about divorce, she would reach out.
So I waited.
One day passed.
Then another.
No calls.
No messages.
Nothing.
At first, I told myself it didn’t matter.
I wanted the divorce too.
That was what I had told myself for years.
So why was the silence bothering me?
Why did the house feel so empty?
Why did I keep thinking about her?
I stood near the bedroom window, staring outside.
My thoughts drifted unwillingly to that morning.
Sophia standing in front of me.
Her eyes full of tears.
Her voice shaking as she said,
“I want a divorce.”
I clenched my jaw.
The image wouldn’t leave my mind.
Then another thought came—
Had I really treated her that badly?
I frowned.
She had everything.
A mansion.
Comfort.
Security.
She never had to worry about money.
Wasn’t that enough?
Then why had she looked so broken?
I sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through my hair.
The room felt strangely cold.
And for the first time, something uncomfortable crept into my chest.
Guilt.
I immediately pushed the thought away.
No.
I had given her a comfortable life.
But then—
why did her crying face keep coming back to me?