Episode 7
506 Words
The afternoon sun was harsh that day, baking the dusty street where Sophie’s small home stood. Inside, Sophie and Rohan were sharing a simple lunch of boiled yam and palm oil. They had been laughing about Rohan’s clumsy attempt to peel yam when a loud, mocking voice cut through their peace.
“Well, well, look at this sight! Sophie the saint, feeding a stray dog!”
Sophie stiffened, her spoon pausing in midair. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. Priya.
The door banged open without a knock, and Priya sauntered in, her bright dress swishing with every step, her lips curled into a cruel smile. She folded her arms and leaned against the doorway, her laughter sharp as broken glass.
“So it’s true,” she sneered, eyeing Rohan with disdain. “You’re actually keeping this nobody in your house. Tell me, Sophie, have you gone mad? Or is it pity that keeps you tied to this… this beggar?”
Rohan lowered his gaze, saying nothing. He clenched his fists under the table, the sting of her words sharp, but he reminded himself—no one must know who he truly was. Not yet.
Sophie stood, her jaw tight. “Priya, you have no right to barge into my home or insult someone who’s done you no harm.”
Priya laughed again, louder this time. “Home? This shack? And look at you, defending him as if he’s some kind of prince. Sophie, wake up! He’s poor. A nobody. People are already laughing at you in the market—‘Sophie, the girl who shelters trash.’ Don’t you feel ashamed?”
Rohan’s chest tightened, but before he could speak, Sophie stepped forward, her eyes blazing. “I’d rather share my life with someone who respects me than with people who use their tongues as weapons. If being kind makes me foolish, then I’ll choose foolishness every time.”
For a moment, Priya faltered, but pride wouldn’t let her back down. She flicked her hair and smirked. “We’ll see how long your pity lasts. One day, you’ll regret choosing this life.”
With that, she turned on her heels, her mocking laughter echoing down the street as she left.
Silence filled the room once more. Rohan’s fists slowly unclenched, his heart heavy with humiliation but also with admiration. He looked at Sophie, who was still standing firm, her breath uneven but her face steady.
“Why didn’t you let me answer her?” he asked softly.
Sophie turned to him, her expression softening. “Because you don’t owe her or anyone else an explanation. You are not what she says you are, Rohan. Don’t ever believe that.”
He swallowed hard, emotion swelling in his chest. Her words were balm to his wounds. She had defended him fiercely, as though he truly mattered.
In that moment, though he said nothing, Rohan knew one thing for certain: Sophie’s belief in him meant more than all the riches his family had ever given him.
- Writer
