Chapter 6

• Leon is seated at his desk, head tilted forward, engrossed in reading something on his laptop, and doesn't flinch or bat an eye as Sophia strolls in without announcement. She knows he senses her, heard her walk in, and can probably smell her perfume that he once told her he despises. To quote him, 'the smell makes me sick to my stomach.' That's why she still wears it, even if the scent sometimes makes her nauseous from the memories it conjures up. He was the one who bought it for her as newlyweds when they thought they might just manage to make this work. This is just how she's become to survive in this challenging existence. Hurting him for hurting her... it's immature, but at least it's the only way she can grab his attention from time to time.
• Sophia tenses at seeing him, as she always does, because even after all this time, she's never been able to entirely oust him from her heart, even if there's no love between them. Her stomach tightens, and those irritating butterflies rise and flutter around until she pushes them down with a heavy inhale. She steels herself to regain immunity, hating that her naive heart can never remove the Leon of long ago from her head. Even though they have both changed beyond recognition in ten years, their story is a rollercoaster and long, and somehow all stops always end up at Hatesville no matter how much they try to pull it back.
• He's looking good in a white shirt, and navy tie, no suit jacket, and his black hair has been styled up off his forehead in a way that brings out his best features. His straight black brows frame the darkest of brown, gorgeous eyes, and that faultless jawline enhances everything, even his full lips and the way he chews his lower one when he concentrates. Leon was always blessed with how he looked, and it only causes her more pain when she stares at him, seeing the boy she used to adore. He hasn't been that boy for a long time, only in her memories, only by name.
• "What is it?" He asks without looking up, fingers on his keyboard paused, and zero effort in making eye contact with her. The instant aura of being closed off and aloof that he always serves her, and his tone is flat. Sophia ignores it, walks forward, and dumps the file on his desk with little grace, folding her arms over her chest with nonchalance to show him she doesn't care. Always on guard, never hinting at weakness.
• "Your proposal results. It's plausible if you can get the board to agree. It looks like a solid investment, and I don't have any reason not to back it. I agree; we should go for it." She waits for him to lift it and open it, and he takes his time about it. Glancing at her only for a few seconds as he scans her outfit, no facial reaction about it, no acknowledgment if she looks good or bad, and then goes back to the task at hand. Lifting it and flipping through while he speed reads it. Infuriatingly unreadable as always.
• "Hmmm." He flips more pages and then returns to the financial breakdown and risk report, rereading it. Sophia waits and watches, her insides churning because deep down, she knows what today is, and it makes her want to ask him not to be like this for one day. It makes her want to break her mask of cold indifference she has worn for so many years and show him that the girl he used to know and care for still exists inside the poster-perfect Hale daughter-in-law his mother polished for him. She sometimes wants to break free and curl up in his arms to cry it out like she did the day of her parents' funeral. She still wants that boy who held her hand through those dark days and tried to be the comfort in her life. Her fingers twitch with the effort of holding it in, and she taps her foot to keep it under wraps.
• "I thought we could have dinner together tonight with the family." She drops it casually, surprising herself because it comes from nowhere and she hadn't planned it, and catches him stiffen even while sitting reading. A pause, a furrow so subtle of his brow, but she can't miss it.
• "Not today. I have plans." It's a curt and cold response, and despite not shedding a single tear since the day her parents died, she feels one rise up and clog in her throat like a sharp boulder that threatens to choke her. She knows he avoids today, and maybe it still hurts him after four years, but she can never tell if it's grief or hatred. He still blames her for it, and she knows it's where any possibility of them was destroyed. Just another notch cut out of her heart, along with the dozens of other times when life blew them apart so cruelly.
• "Right. I guess I'll eat with them. I'll have the housekeeper keep yours warm."
• "Don't. I'm staying out overnight. I won't be back." Again, another quick, cold reply to cut her off and clarify that today of all days is not one he will ever spend with her. Whether it makes him sad or mad, it won't ever be in her presence.
• Sophia's face aches with the effort of staying composed, and she forces a slight smile that she knows won't reach her hazel eyes, flicking her long brown hair off her shoulder with sass, and she can't help herself wounding him the way he's hurting her.
• "I guess you won't come to the cemetery with me then. To leave flowers on her grave?" The oozing disdain is undeniable, and she hates herself for doing this, but he doesn't understand what goes on inside her. How she feels, how much it still hurts even if it was her fault. That she's screaming inside while the outer shell is a blank and emotional heartless woman who lives only to make money. That she was pushed and molded and coerced and left Sophia Andres, the girl far behind, so long ago, to be able to take a step day after day to continue living. The same way he did when his father passed away after abusing alcohol and destroying his marriage for years after he lost her father.
• "Do you have a right?" He stays with his eyes on the report, his chest a little more noticeably heaving with his breaths but nothing else shows. A cutting question slipping out of that immaculate icy exterior.
• "What's that supposed to mean?" She spits venomously, her tone instantly hostile, triggered by his words and stung with his ability to cut her down with so few of them. All these years, it's always been his biggest weapon against her. Because she loved him even when she didn't know it, and she thinks deep down, she loves him still. She just doesn't want to.
• "I don't want to do this today. Don't make me the bad guy again. Go....do whatever you're doing. Take the day off, take flowers, whatever. Just leave me out of it. I'm not interested." He closes the file with an exaggerated sigh, remaining composed, and flips it to one side, pushing his chair back and getting up. He shrugs his jacket from the chair behind him and makes it clear he intends on walking out to avoid this conflict. This is what he does. When she rises to any kind of fight or attempt at bringing up everything that's happened over the years, Leon leaves, and she hates it so much she feels like she could spit teeth. Her anger rises inside like molten lava, and it takes everything for her not to flip out and break loose.