Chapter 20
Sophia’s P.O.V
As I step out of the car, Veronica gives me a half–hearted wave, her eyes still shining with concern, before driving off. The familiar sound of her tires crunching against the gravel fades as I make my way towards the building.
My mind drifts to the thought of the bruise on my face, the one I tried to cover with layers of concealer this morning. I can still feel the tightness of the makeup on my skin, like a mask that keeps the world from seeing what’s really there. I pull my coat tighter around me, hoping it hides more than just the faint bluish tint on my cheek.
But just as I reach for the door handle to the building, I hear a voice that cuts through the air like a blade.
“Sophia.”
1 freeze.
Turning, I see Nathaniel standing a few steps away, his gaze locked onto me with an intensity that makes my stomach twist.
Nathaniel…I’ve known him for a couple days only, but in all honesty, I’ve never seen him like this. His eyes, usually so calm and collected, are filled with concern now–his brow furrowed in a way that makes me feel like I’m the most important thing in the world to him. But I can’t let him see me, so I turn my head slightly, hoping that he didn’t notice anything.
“Morning, Nathaniel,” I say, forcing a smile, though it feels more like a grimace.
He doesn’t respond with the casual smile I was expecting. Instead, his eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer. The moment he does, I feel the weight of his gaze shift. My hand instinctively goes to my cheek, as if I can shield the evidence of my husband’s violence from him. I tell myself to breathe, but my chest feels tight.
“What happened to your face?” Nathaniel’s voice is low, almost gentle, like he’s afraid to push too hard. But the concern in his eyes is
unmistakable.
I wince, my hand still hovering over the bruise. I try to brush it off, turning it into something trivial. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just… I fell,” I say quickly, hoping he’ll believe the lie. But it seems, I’m the most terrible liar on the planet.
Nathaniel doesn’t look convinced. His lips press into a firm line, and he steps even closer, his eyes scanning my face. I can feel the weight of his stare, like he’s seeing through the lie, through the mask I’ve built.
“You fell?” he asks, disbelief in his voice. “Sophia, come on. That’s not a fall. That’s… That’s a bruise.” He steps even closer, his hand reaching out, almost like he’s going to touch my cheek, but then he stops himself. The concern turns into something darker–something that makes my heart beat faster, like a warning. “Is he hurting you?”
My breath catches in my throat. His words hit harder than I expect, cutting through the surface of my carefully constructed façade. I swallow hard, trying to push back the lump in my throat. “No,” I say, forcing the word out with a strength I don’t feel. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just… I’m clumsy, that’s all.”
But Nathaniel isn’t buying it. His eyes soften with understanding, but the frustration is still there. “Sophia,” he says gently, stepping forward, his voice so quiet I have to strain to hear it. “You don’t have to hide it from me. You don’t have to pretend. If he’s doing this to you, you don’t have to go through it alone.”
The weight of his words crashes over me. For a moment, it feels like the world has paused. I want to believe him. I want to lean into his warmth, to trust that he would help me. But the fear, the guilt, it tightens its grip on me. “I’m fine,” I say, though my voice trembles, betraying the lie.
Nathaniel doesn’t let it go. His expression hardens, his hand brushing against his hair in agitation. “No, you’re not fine, Sophia. I can see it in your eyes. You’re not fooling anyone.” His gaze softens again, his voice lower. “If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. No judgment. No questions. I’ll stand by you. No matter what.”
His words are like a lifeline, a promise. They make me feel seen, but also exposed, vulnerable in ways I don’t want to be. My breath hitches, and I fight back the urge to break down. If I let myself feel what he’s offering, what does that mean for my life? For my marriage?
“I… I can’t,” I say, my voice small. The words feel heavy, suffocating. “I can’t do that to him. He’s… He’s my husband.”
