009

SOPHIE

"Sophie, are you kidding? You said that with such a straight face that I almost fell for it." Hayes muttered, his eyes lifted over his laptop and landed on me.

"What?"

"I've caught you using pills and now you've switched to you're dying? Have you always been like this, going any lengths for attention, huh?"

My head spun, my lips trembling as I stared at him in confusion.

What the hell just came out of his mouth?

How could he?

"Repeat yourself," I demanded, lowering myself. My hands reached for the table and pressed against it as I met his gaze.

He looked amused, his lips lifting into a smirk. "You're so desperate for my attention and—" he dragged his gaze down my body, his eyes examining. He was so sure that I was healthy. He was so sure that I did all this for him. I couldn't help but glare at him, waiting for his next word. "—pity that you would lie about your sickness. Trust me, I'm impressed."

I pulled back, straightening my posture.

"Why would I lie about my illness?" I scoffed.

His shoulder lifted and dropped, his lips downturned. Irritation crawled up my skin as I stared at his unfazed expression.

"Why would I lie that a doctor told me about this?" I questioned.

He didn't respond.

I gulped, waiting. A normal person would provide reassurance or pity, to say the least, but not this man.

At this point, it was safe to assume he wasn't a normal person.

He refused to believe, and right now, as he leaned back, I could see his lips widen.

Then he laughed, so loud like I was a clown that had just cracked a joke for him.

I straightened my shoulders, a bit startled as my eyes widened in shock.

"You must be joking." He pulled his body forward and held my gaze. "You think I don't know what game you're playing? Have you forgotten we're married, Soph? I know you but it's enough. Stop it already."

"Game?" My eyebrows furrowed.

"You must really be pathetic to even pay a doctor to tell lies." He shook his head in astonishment. "I never knew you were like this. You know what, you have my attention, so please stop wishing this on yourself."

My gaze fell to the table, glancing through the words on the divorce papers. It wasn't shame.

I knew it, because I could feel the anger boiling through me. I could feel my fingers curling into a fist and tightening its grip as I replayed the words he just said repeatedly in my mind.

I could feel it so evidently as my chest hurt, but in the next minute I looked up and parted my lips.

"I didn't pay a doctor. Why would I even do that?"

I was explaining myself. Just like I always did. I don't know why I was trying to save something that couldn't be saved.

"I am actually sick. Do you need to see the doctor's reports to prove to you that I am—"

He slammed his hands on the table.

I gasped; my mouth parted. It took a minute for me to clamp them shut.

"Stop," he demanded, his voice stern. "Just stop. You're not sick, Sophie."

"I'm trying to tell you that I—"

"And I don't want to hear it." He pushed himself to his feet, reached for his white shirt and straightened it like I wasn't even there. He turned, snatched his suit jacket off the chair, and slid it through his arms. "I can't be here with you if you keep lying like this."

"So, you won't even hear me out?" I questioned. My eyes begged for him to believe me. For me to have this one thing that gave me so much pain, mine. To not have his disbelief take this thing that felt more true than ever and deem it fake.

"You want me to sit here and listen to your lies repeatedly?" His pitch got lower as he spoke. His chest heaved up and down rapidly. He dragged in a breath then released it with a huff. His eyebrows tightened like he couldn't stand the sight of me. Little did he know, I couldn't stand him either. But why? Why was I still trying to prove myself to him?

"So, you're sticking to this narrative, huh?"

I stared at him.

"Why do you even want to be sick?" His tone was calm now, almost concerning.

Who would want this?

Who would want to die? In less than 3 months, i could be dead and yet…

"What do you want from me? Pity?"

"Hayes—"

His jaw tightened, and he brushed past me, sending me stumbling back.

I couldn't believe it.

My mind kept replaying it. As I left his office, it did.

Hours later, standing in front of the mirror in our bathroom, it still played. Loud and clear as day.

My fingers reached for my face. I hoped how cold my hands were would pull me back to reality. Maybe even take the thought out of my mind.

It worked but it drew my mind towards something else. My eyes darted around the reflection of my face in the mirror, scanning.

I looked incredibly pale.

Your bone marrow isn't producing enough blood cells anymore…

My thoughts faded and for a moment I wished the sickness took my perkfect memory. Even when Hayes didn't play repeatedly in my mind, I was tormented by another voice. My doctor's.

It's getting worse every day.

I sighed.

Transplant… Our facility…

I shook my head, not wanting to relive it. Not wanting water to fill my eyes.

The weight of having to take pills every damn day weighed on me.

My eyes searched for them.

I couldn't find them and for a moment I was glad.

Then the next minute I wasn't.

I wondered if I wasn't sick enough. If I didn't look sick enough.

Did my chapped lips not show it anymore? Or my eyebags? The weight I had lost or how pale I looked?

What about me made my sickness a lie?

I dropped my head, not wanting to look at myself anymore.

I took in a breath then released it.

My thoughts were cut off by a sudden knock on the door. I looked up; my eyes lit for some reason.

Who would it be? Cesca?

I would be incredibly thrilled if she was the one.

Someone else would be…Domi—?

I bit my lips snapping myself back to the present. Why would my husband's elder brother who saved me from death even be knocking on my room's door?

I turned and headed towards it, my pace quickening after every step till I began running. I arrived at the front door within minutes.

I gasped for air but still moved, reaching for the door. I grabbed the door handle and yanked on it.

Locked.

I cursed underneath my breath before turning the knob below the handle. I gripped the door handle and yanked at it.