Chapter 4
Memories swallowed me, pulling my consciousness into a haze.
When I finally surfaced, William was already in another state with Sophie, settled into a hotel.
They'd taken adjoining rooms. Late that night, with her blanket clutched to her chest, Sophie knocked on William's door.
He answered to find her standing in the hallway, eyes teary and wide with a fragile, pleading look.
"William, I'm a little scared. Could I sleep on your sofa?" Sophie asked.
He had always been gentle with her, but tonight his mood seemed off.
Phone in hand, he flashed a rare flicker of impatience. "Sophie, that wouldn't be appropriate."
Her eyes grew even red-rimmed. "Don't misunderstand, I-I just remembered this is the city where my dad had his accident."
Tears seemed ready to spill.
Sophie's father had died young, and her mother's health had never been strong.
William had always pitied and cared for her because of it, though whether it was only pity or something more remained unclear.
His resolve softened. With a sigh, he stepped aside. "Come in."
"Thank you," she whispered, voice trembling as she tightened her grip on the blanket and walked in, face pale.
"Take the bed," William offered, his tone warm.
Surprise and a flush of color spread across her cheeks. "Oh, that... wouldn't that be..."
She trailed off, finally noticing the bed hadn't been touched.
The covers were still neatly folded; he hadn't slept at all.
An open medical textbook lay beside the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, where he must have been sitting.
William didn't seem to catch her earlier assumption.
His phone chimed; he glanced at it, his voice drifting slightly. "I'll take the sofa. Get some rest."
As he typed a reply and moved back toward the window, Sophie set her blanket down.
She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself, then rushed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him from behind, a sob catching in her throat.
She whispered, "William, it's been so long. Aren't you going to divorce her?"
He stiffened instantly.
Maybe he was caught off guard, or maybe, somewhere in his heart, he didn't want to push her away.
It took a long moment before William reached down and gently pried her hands from his waist.
Turning to face her, he said quietly, "You're exhausted. You should sleep."
Sophie looked utterly heartbroken, tears now falling freely. "William, I know you only hate Emily for trapping you back then.
"But it's been over a year now. Shouldn't the punishment end? The person you love... it isn't her."
A faint blush rose to her cheeks. "William, please divorce her. It hurts me to see you tied to someone you don't love."
William stayed silent for a long time, as if her words had struck a chord.
He sat there, silent, clearly considering what she'd said.
Finally, he replied, his voice low, "She's stubborn. She won't agree. Let's not talk about this now."
A sharp pang went through me. I suddenly felt sad.
In truth, during the first half-year of our marriage, I had agreed to a divorce.
But right then, William had just received a new medical research award.
He was doing interviews with major outlets, under public scrutiny.
He didn't dare risk a divorce at such a sensitive time, afraid of rumors and backlash.
Only in recent months did William decide the timing was right.
We fought bitterly, repeatedly. In his anger, he'd shout that he wanted a divorce.
And because he said such hurtful things, I'd get just as furious.
The more William demanded it, the more I'd dig in my heels out of sheer spite, refusing just to spite him.
But that night I died; after he threw the divorce papers at me and left, I did sign them.
I hadn't meant to keep William trapped forever. I was ready to let go.
Now, though, the divorce never went through.
Instead, he's ended up a widower. He'll probably find that just as disgusting.
Tears still streaming, Sophie threw her arms around him again, this time facing him. "I'm sorry. I know I have no right to say any of this. I just... I really miss my dad. It hurts so much."