Chapter 19

“Sofia,” Sam greeted hesitantly, approaching us, his eyes fixed on me.

“Sam,” I replied. Should I hug him? Shake hands? The awkwardness was palpable. I just stood there. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. The intensity of his stare made the rest of the world fade, and a crushing guilt weighed heavily on me. “You got married.”

I attempted a smile, but it faltered. “I did.”

“You look good,” he said. I subconsciously adjusted my coat, pulling my long knitted dress tighter. It was cold, yet I felt simultaneously warm, clammy, and suffocated.

“Thanks. You too.” So much wanted to be said, but the right words eluded me. I feared my confusion and distress were written all over my face, easily readable to my husband, whose intense gaze I was acutely aware of.

Clearing my throat, I took a deep breath. “Gabriel, this is Sam. He’s one of my closest and oldest friends from home.”

“Friend, huh?” Hurt flickered across Sam’s face, quickly masked as he finally looked away from me and toward the man I’d just introduced. “Gabriel,” he extended a hand, which Sam hesitantly shook. “The husband.”

“Sam, just a friend,” I added, a gulp catching in my throat. Gabriel’s voice, loud and domineering, practically boomed.

“Funny how ‘Freckles’ never mentioned you, just Alice.”

Liar. Liar. Liar. I glared at Gabriel, who wouldn’t meet my eyes. What was he doing?

“Freckles, huh?” Sam scoffed.

“Sam,” I began, but the words wouldn't come.

“Goodbye, Sofia,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Let’s go, Mom.”

I offered a weak smile to Mrs. Riley, who walked away with her son, looking equally confused. I watched their retreating figures for too long, tears welling in my eyes.

I didn’t love him. I didn’t have romantic feelings for him. But he was one of my closest friends, a constant pillar of support whenever my world crumbled, and I had hurt him. I knew he was in love with me, and I’d hurt him.

“He was just a friend, huh?” Gabriel said, making me whip my head around.

His anger was palpable.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” he replied coldly, walking away without looking at me.

I followed. “I didn’t mention Alice or him to you. You were just trying to hurt him.”

“And so what if I was, Freckles? It hurt you to see a ‘friend’ hurting?” he spat, making me scowl.

He had no right to be angry, not about this. So what if I had a past? So what if I had feelings for someone else? So what if I left something incomplete to be his wife? He didn’t know me before our forced marriage, and I would mean nothing to him five months from now when he placed the divorce papers before me. When our contract ended, my life before or after him was none of his business.

I let him give me the cold shoulder, walking quietly beside him, silent and scowling. But I’d be lying if I said his silence and coldness didn’t hurt, especially after I thought we were past this phase.

“You drove three hours to talk to me, to get to know me and my life before you,” I finally said when we reached my house. My breath hitched, a lump forming in my throat. He stopped, but didn’t look at me. “This is me, and this is my life before you, Sam being a part of it. You don’t get to choose which parts of my past you like and which you don’t, Gabriel.”

He didn’t reply. He didn’t look at me. He walked straight into the house.

I stood there for a few seconds, feeling defeated, tears stinging my eyes, but I blinked them back as I followed him inside, forcing a smile for my grandfather.

We had dinner, pretending to be a perfect couple, then I gave my grandfather his medicine and tucked him into bed.

When I went outside to clear the table, Gabriel had already done it. So I took the disposable plates and threw them away.

“Why do you use these?” he asked, and I wanted to say, Seriously? but I didn’t.

“I used to work late most nights, and Grandpa usually didn’t have the strength to wash dishes, especially after chemo,” I replied, not looking at him while putting the leftovers in the fridge. It was simply more convenient.

Turning to him, I asked, “Are you done being angry?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Where did you work?” He continued the conversation regardless. He was impossible.

“I worked a 9-to-5 job at a private company here,” I told him, “And the diner we were at? It’s an overnight one. I worked as a waitress there on alternate days.”

“When did you sleep?”

“Between jobs,” I offered a weak smile.

“Your life sounds hard.”

“It was.”

“Did he make it easier? Sam?”

I sighed, looking at him. “Sam and Alice, they both did.”

He nodded. He didn’t seem angry anymore, but he wasn’t the warm person I knew either. He stood up from the stool, reaching for his coat.

“What are you doing, Gabriel?”

“Rain check on our plans?” he asked. “I just remembered some urgent work.”

My lips parted. “So you’re leaving?”

He nodded. “Goodnight, Freckles.”

I didn’t reply, and he didn’t wait for one. The door opened and closed, and I stood frozen until I heard his car roar away. Then, I let the tears fall.

I didn’t know why I was crying—perhaps it was Sam’s hurt, Gabriel’s coldness (which I didn’t deserve), or the fact that my grandfather seemed weaker and frailer, his chemotherapy slowly killing him. I didn’t know what it was, but I cried until I fell asleep.