Chapter 3
Without missing a beat, I dumped the water into the flowerpot.
William's expression soured instantly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.
"It's dirty," I said, my voice icy.
Emily's shoulders shook.
William moved to block her from me, standing protectively in front.
"Do you always have to be so mean?" he shot back.
I put the empty glass back in his hand.
"Compared to what you two posted in that confession post, this is nothing," I shot back.
William was silent for a moment.
"Sophie, I admit I've been paying too much attention to Emily lately. But it's not anything inappropriate between us," he said.
"Then what is it?" I pressed.
"I'm just trying to help her," he said.
He said it like he was above it all, untouched by any mess.
My chest tightened.
"Why do you have to step on me to save her?" I asked, my voice trembling.
William's brows knitted together.
"You've got everything, your career, your home, your wedding, and me. But what about her? Her wedding was ruined, and she almost lost everything. Can't you just let her have something?" he said.
Emily broke down, crying even harder.
"William, don't say that. Sophie will only hate me more," she sobbed.
He leaned in and wiped her tears away.
"She'll understand eventually," he said softly.
Standing in the middle of the living room, I suddenly remembered that smile on Emily's face that day.
That day, she said, "We'll see."
All this time, she'd really been waiting.
Waiting for William to become just another one of those men she always talked about.
I turned and headed upstairs.
William called after me.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To sleep," I replied.
"Don't start drama about the wedding right now. My mom's coming over tomorrow to figure out the food for the wedding," he said.
I stopped on the stairs.
"The food for the wedding?" I echoed.
William looked relieved.
"Look, the wedding's almost here. Let's not let some misunderstanding ruin the big day," he said.
Emily lowered her head, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Maybe I should just move out. Otherwise, Sophie will never feel comfortable with me around," she said softly.
William spoke up immediately. "You're not moving out."
I turned around.
"Then I'll move out," I said.
The living room was so quiet, the only thing breaking the silence was Buddy's soft panting.
William stared at me for a long moment before finally speaking.
"Sophie, do you really want to tear this family apart?" he asked.
I gripped the stair railing.
"When were we ever really family?" I shot back.
Emily took a step forward.
I caught a glimpse of a red string around her neck.
There was a white charm hanging from it.
My fingertips tingled.
Mom left that for me.
William caught my stare and looked uncomfortable for a moment.
Emily quickly covered the charm with her hand.
"I'm just wearing it for comfort. William said you wouldn't care," she said softly.
I didn't go upstairs.
I walked down the stairs, step by step.
"Take it off," I said, my voice cold.
Tears hung on Emily's lashes.
William moved to block my way.
"Sophie, don't do this to her," he said.
I reached out toward her.
"Take it off," I said, my voice icy.
Emily stepped back, tears streaming down her face.
William grabbed my wrist.
"It's just an object," he said.
His grip was so tight it hurt.
I looked up at him, enunciating every word. "That was left to me by my mom."
William's jaw tightened.
"She's your mom's daughter too," he said.
Suddenly, I felt all my strength drain away.
Yeah.
Emily was Mom's daughter too.
That was why I always gave in to her, ever since we were kids.
I gave her my room, my dresses, even what little energy Mom had left.
And now, I have to give up my fiancé too.
I pulled my hand away.
"Fine," I said.
William froze, caught completely off guard.
I walked to the entryway and chucked the keychain engraved with Emily's name straight into the trash.
Emily screamed.
"Sophie!"
Just as I was about to close the door, William's voice rang out behind me.
"If you walk out tonight, don't expect me to come after you," he said.
I didn't look back.
The hallway light was out.
I made my way down the stairs in the dark, my phone screen lighting up.
The anonymous confession account had a new post.
[She's gone. I don't even feel like chasing after her, not even a little bit.]
I crashed at the studio that night.
*****
The next morning, Maggie Hart walked in carrying a cup of milk and immediately spotted me curled up on the couch.
"What happened? Did a client chase you down, or did some guy drive you up the wall again?" she teased.
I sat up, my throat so dry it hurt.
"Both," I said.
Maggie stuck a straw in the milk and shoved it into my hand.
"Here, drink up. Life sucks, but milk's always worth it," she said.
She was my studio partner.
Mouth like a whip, hands like lightning, heart like butter.
Back when I first started out and couldn't even scrape together rent, she'd sit on the floor with her laptop, pulling all-nighters with me, grinding out orders.
Later, William joined us, handling all the client meetings and negotiations.
Back then, everyone said we were a match made in heaven.
One of us was the doer, the other was the talker.
Looking back now, it was pretty ironic.
The talker was the first to mess me up with his words.
When Maggie heard what happened last night, she nearly spat out her milk.