Chapter 4
My hand froze around the fork, and I glanced toward the door.
Andrew was sweating, looking worn out from the journey.
Sophie was pressed right up against him, her gaze openly defiant.
His shoulder and sleeve were drenched from the rain, and his shoes were splattered with mud.
He must've seen the messages and dropped everything to rush to Riverdale.
Over the past five years, we could count the times we'd seen each other on one hand.
I was always so quiet, never good at showing how I felt.
But whenever I saw him again after a long time apart, I just couldn't help myself.
I'd always end up rushing over to him without thinking, like it was pure instinct.
But now, looking at that familiar face so close to me, I felt nothing at all.
It was like my heart had gone completely numb.
Even the shock and anger from the night before, when I rushed to Northbridge and heard him say those things, had drained away.
Even now, with Sophie by his side, not even a ripple stirred inside me.
Andrew's eyes were full of guilt he couldn't hide.
He walked into the hospital room.
He put on that well-behaved face he always showed Grandpa.
He said, "It's my bad, really.
"I've just been swamped with work these past few years.
"I barely ever make it back, so of course Emma's upset.
"But Professor Goodwin, I'd never do that to her, I swear!"
Sophie immediately chimed in to defend him.
Sophie put on her sweetest smile and said, "Professor Goodwin, Andrew hardly comes back to Riverdale these days, but he's always thinking about Emma.
"Everyone at the company knows, he messages her right at eight o'clock every night, no matter what.
"Even if there's an important meeting going on, he'll drop everything just to chat with her."
Her innocent look was picture perfect.
But when she glanced sideways at Andrew, a flash of slyness and smug satisfaction crossed her eyes.
It was never Andrew who messaged me at eight every night, like clockwork.
Grandpa's breathing, which had been rapid and anxious, finally started to settle down a bit.
For one split second, the urge rose up in me.
I wanted to stand up and tell Andrew and Sophie to get out of the hospital room.
But the beeping of Grandpa's heart monitor snapped me back to reality.
I couldn't eat another bite, so I set my fork down without a word.
Andrew definitely had something on his mind.
He was unusually helpful, fussing around and clearing the table.
He poured coffee for Grandpa and me, brought Grandpa water, and helped him freshen up.
He grew up in an orphanage from a young age.
When I was ten, my class organized an event to bring some warmth to the kids at the orphanage.
That day, I happened to witness it.
Andrew was cornered in the backyard by a bunch of older boys, getting bullied.
Those boys beat him up, saying, "You never talk, always acting all stuck-up, just gets on our nerves!"
I suddenly remembered when I first transferred to a new school at the start of the year.
The girls in my class had excluded me, too.
They disliked me for the same reason, I never spoke up.
They thought I was just acting fake.
Back then, my parents had died suddenly, and I was diagnosed with depression.
I was just struggling with my illness.
Seeing Andrew with his face all bruised and swollen, I couldn't help but think of myself back then.
For once, I couldn't just stand by. I went over and helped him up.
After that, Grandpa took him under his wing and let him move in with us.
That night, I overheard Grandpa chatting with one of his colleagues from the Institute of Advanced Studies.
"Ever since her parents passed away, she just doesn't talk to anyone anymore," Grandpa sighed.
"It's rare for her to actually help someone.
"Let him keep her company, so she'll have someone to talk to."