Chapter Seven – A Night of Regret
574 Words
Continuation:
Nothing.
His body didn’t react.
Not the way it used to.
Not the way it should have.
Because he didn’t want her.
Even in this haze, there was only one face in his mind.
Sophia.
His real wife.
With the last bit of strength he had, he turned his head away. “Stop,” he mumbled, his voice barely there.
Victoria tensed. “Alexander—”
“I said stop.”
And then, darkness.
Morning Regret
When Alexander woke up, his head pounded.
He was still in Victoria’s bed.
And she was lying beside him, looking far too pleased with herself.
His stomach dropped.
“Morning,” she whispered, trailing her fingers over his arm.
He yanked away. “What… happened?”
She pouted. “You don’t remember?”
His jaw clenched. “Did we—?”
Victoria smiled, coy. “What do you think?”
His mind raced.
Flashes of the night before—the drink, the haze, the overwhelming wrongness.
His fists clenched. “Did you drug me?”
Victoria gasped, feigning offense. “Alexander! How could you even suggest—”
He was already out of bed, grabbing his shirt. This was a mistake.
A huge mistake.
And it was about to get worse.
Sophia Finds Out
Sophia didn’t mean to overhear.
But when maids whisper, it usually means trouble.
She wasn’t prepared for the words that made her stop in her tracks.
“…woke up in Miss Victoria’s bed…”
“…looked so guilty…”
“…I heard they spent the night together…”
Sophia felt nothing at first.
Just… empty.
Like her brain refused to process it.
But then the hurt settled in.
Deep. Sharp. Unforgiving.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t scream.
She just… turned and walked away.
Again.
This time, for good.
Sophia had mastered the art of indifference.
She moved through the mansion like a ghost, keeping interactions with Alexander brief and cold.
No morning greetings.
No sarcastic remarks.
No fights—which, somehow, felt worse.
And Alexander noticed.
He noticed the way she barely looked at him.
He noticed how she no longer had any retorts.
He noticed that Sophia—the woman who could go toe-to-toe with him—was slipping away.
And it bothered him.
A Failed Explanation
It took three days before he finally confronted her.
He found her in the library, flipping through a book she clearly wasn’t reading.
“Sophia.”
She didn’t look up. “Busy.”
He exhaled, already frustrated. “Can we talk?”
She turned a page. “We’re talking now.”
His jaw clenched. “You know what I mean.”
Finally, she met his gaze. Expression blank. Voice emotionless. “What exactly do you want to explain, Alexander?”
He hesitated.
Because she wasn’t angry—not in the way he expected.
She was just… distant.
And for some reason, that made his stomach twist.
“What happened that night with Victoria—”
She stood up. “I don’t care.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t?”
“No.” Her smile was sharp. Fake. “Why would I care what you do with your girlfriend?”
The word girlfriend left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Alexander’s chest tightened. “Sophia—”
“Well, if that’s all,” she cut him off, “I’d like to get back to my book.”
And just like that, she walked away.
- Writer
