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502 Words
READING the text, Sophia couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. Warmth washed over her, melting away the sting of the mart incident, at least for a moment.
It was from Oswald. Her safe place. Her only happiness.
> **Hi baby, I hope you haven’t forgotten about our date, huh? Lol, I know you wouldn’t. I might not be home when you arrive, I have got a meeting in a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable, and I will be there before you know it. Love.**
Her smile deepened, and she even laughed softly. That was Sophia, soft-hearted, quick to let love overwrite the pain.
Without thinking twice, she started the car and headed straight for Oswald’s mansion.
The FM radio clicked on as she hit the road, and a talk show filled the air.
🎙 “So, what is the verdict? Is Sophia really with Oswald for love… or just for his money?” a female presenter said, her tone teasing but edged with judgement.
Sophia winced and snapped the radio off.
“Why is everyone obsessed with this?” she muttered. “I was living my own life when Oswald came to me. I didn’t ask him to. I never did.”
Forty minutes later, she pulled up to the towering silver gates. The metal slid open smoothly, and she drove in, heading straight for the garage. She lingered in the car for a moment before stepping out, groceries in hand.
At the entrance, the guards bowed. One opened the door for her, and she returned the gesture with a polite smile before stepping inside.
In the kitchen, the familiar aroma of spices and simmering sauce wrapped around her. The chef maids were busy at work.
“Good evening, ma’am. Welcome,” they greeted in unison, curtsying.
“Good evening,” Sophia replied with a smile. “What are you cooking?”
“Pasta… stewed pasta with chicken sauce, ma’am,” Hanny, the head chef, answered.
“Mmm, smells amazing. Here—” She handed over the grocery bag. “Just a few things from the mart. Stock them in the pantry.”
After freshening up in the bedroom, she glanced at the wall clock and sighed. It was getting late.
She dressed in a sheer satin crop blouse and pale pink shorts, then slipped into bed to wait for him. But as soon as her head hit the pillow, the memory of the mart incident replayed in her mind, the woman’s sneer, the sting of her words. Then the man behind the till.
“Oh God!” She lowly exclaimed.
Tears welled again, and before she knew it, she had begun sobbing. Her quiet sobs filled the room.
She barely noticed the sound of the door opening until his voice broke through.
“Honey, I’m home,” Oswald called, a smile in his tone.
But the moment he heard her soft sobs, his expression shifted. Crossing the room, he crouched beside her and wrapped his arms around her.
- Writer
