Chapter 2
725 Words
I dragged my dead-tired body through the door, and every step I took made the water-rotted floorboards creak and c***k beneath my feet.
Outside, fat snowflakes drifted lazily through the air, and my phone pinged. It was a message from Philip asking what I wanted to eat.
It was only then that I felt it. The sharp, gnawing pang of hunger was clawing at my empty stomach.
My mind immediately jumped to that cheap sandwich sold right outside the hospital gate, and I couldn't help but swallow hard, saliva pooling in my mouth.
Ugh, how pathetic. I should be crying right now, not salivating over food.
Philip got home not long after, and a gust of biting cold air swept in with him the moment he opened the door.
"Honey, you must be starved. Come eat! I had so many orders today, I ran my butt off," he called.
I took the takeout container from his hand and flipped the lid open. Inside was a half-eaten salad.
The packaging was exactly the same as the one I'd seen on Zoe's bedside table.
"I told you I wanted a sandwich, didn't I?" I asked.
He pulled off his helmet and clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"We can't afford to be picky right now, can we? Just eat what's there," he snapped.
I glanced at his bright orange delivery rider uniform. Only the shoulder had a thin dusting of snow on it.
The snow was coming down so hard outside. That meant he'd only waited downstairs for a few minutes before heading up.
Melted snow dripped off his uniform onto the rotting floorboards.
Those old boards were already on their last legs, ready to give way any day now.
And that's when it hit me. All these little details I'd never noticed before suddenly popped out clear as day.
My hair was always dry, frizzy, and brittle. But Philip's hair? It was always clean, soft, and shiny.
My hands were covered in scabs and blisters. Philip's hands, though, were smooth and firm, his nails a healthy, rosy pink.
I was gaunt, withered, looked like a damn ghost walking around. He was bright-eyed, glowing, with rosy, smooth skin that practically radiated good health.
You can't get that just from faking it for a few minutes. That kind of upkeep takes money. Lots of it.
His whole little act was so badly put together. There was no reason I should have only put it all together now.
But when you're scraping by on next to nothing, thinking is a luxury you simply can't afford.
And for someone as sick and worn down as I was, even calling him out on it took more energy than I had left.
I said nothing. I just turned and trundled silently back to our bedroom to rest.
The mattress dipped softly when his hand settled heavy on my side.
"Sophia, let's have a baby together," he said.
I shoved him away so hard my whole body shook, and a fit of coughing tore out of me that I couldn't stop.
That was all it took for Philip to blow a gasket.
"You don't want to have my kid? Then who do you want to have a kid for, huh?"
"You've got someone else in your head, don't you? Saving that womb for another man?"
He stormed out of the room, and the door slammed shut behind him so loudly it made the walls rattle.
I dragged myself up off the bed, cupping my hands to hold the gushing blood, and stumbled to the bathroom to clean myself up.
On my way back to the bedroom, Amelia's voice drifted in from outside the bedroom.
"Let Sophia come work as a nanny at my place."
"That security guard already works in our villa district. We can easily set them up to run into each other."
"If they meet and everything goes exactly like it did in that prophetic dream, then…"
I sank back onto the bed in a daze, and suddenly the bedroom light snapped on, blinding me.
"I lined up a nanny job for you. Go to the interview tomorrow," Philip barked.
He tossed out the line, turned on his heel, and walked out without another word.
He didn't even bother glancing at the pile of blood-soaked tissues piled up right by my bed.
- Writer
