Sophia's POV
“Sophia?” Donald finally managed to say, his voice a low, hesitant murmur. He took a step, his gaze roaming between Laura’s now-stiff posture and my own composed face. “What… what are you doing here at the hospital?”
I scoffed. It wasn’t a loud, angry sound, but a soft, dismissive puff of air. The audacity. After everything. After he had ghosted me, left me, divorced me without a second glance, he had the nerve to ask me what I was doing in a hospital? The irony was so bitter it almost made me laugh. He had no idea the depths of pain I had just navigated in these very walls.
“You have no right, Donald,” I stated, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. “You have no right asking what I come to do in the hospital.” My gaze met his directly, holding his surprised stare.
Donald’s ey
