No Rest 17

Posted by adminj, ? Views, Released on September 7, 2025

Chapter 17

Sophia’s P.O.V

The sunlight slanted through the café windows just enough to make the air feel warm and golden, but even that soft light couldn’t hide the purpling bruise on my cheek. I had tried covering it with makeup, but Veronica, my best friend in the whole world, noticed it the moment she saw me. She froze mid–step, her cup of cappuccino forgotten in her hands as her eyes widened in horror.

“What the hell happened to your face?” she demanded, her voice already rising. She pulled her chair out with a screech and sat down, leaning in as if she needed to study the damage up close.

“And don’t you dare say you fell. That’s not from falling, Sophia. I know you.”

I looked down into my coffee cup, trying to stall for time. My fingers tremble slightly as I curled them around the warm porcelain. For a moment,

I tried to lie, to say something–anything–that would deflect the truth. But I could feel her gaze burning into me, waiting, not with patience but with love disguised as fury.

I finally exhaled a shaky breath. “It was Tristan.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

“He… he slapped me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, my eyes still focused on the steam curling up from my drink like it could somehow dissolve my shame.

“What?!” Veronica was on her feet now, knocking her chair back with a clatter. Heads turned, but she didn’t care. “Are you serious right now? That cowardly bastard hit you?”

“Sit down,” I hissed, embarrassed by the attention, but she was shaking, practically vibrating with rage as she reluctantly sat again, her eyes drilling into me for answers.

“It was just he got angry. His mistress told him I humiliated her at art school. I don’t even know what she meant, but she twisted it all around and made me look like the villain. He came home furious, yelling, accusing me of being jealous or vindictive. And then… he slapped me…before leaving for the beach villa with his mistress.” I said, finally meeting her eyes.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying again. I thought I had exhausted my tears from last night, but clearly I was mistaken.

Veronica was silent for a moment, her hands balled into fists on the table. “Sophia, you have to leave him.”

“No,” I said quickly, almost too quickly. “No. It was the first time, V. He’s never laid a finger on me before. Ever. He was just angry, and he didn’t know how to handle it. I know him. He’s not like that.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now?” she snapped. “That’s exactly what they all say. That’s the first time. That he didn’t mean it. That he’ll never do it again. But Sophia–he did do it. That bruise didn’t appear out of nowhere. That hand hit you. The Tristan you think you know? He just showed you who he really is.”

Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them away stubbornly. “He’s coming back on Monday, and by then, he’ll have cooled down and had time to think things through. I’m sure… I’m sure he’ll apologize. I could see it in his face after it happened. He looked shocked, like he couldn’t believe what he’d done. He just… he walked out and left without saying a word. I think he hated himself at that moment.”

“Not as much as I hate him right now,” Veronica muttered, her voice tight. “Sophia, you are not some porcelain doll for him to break when he’s upset. You don’t deserve this. I’ve told you before–there was always something about him that didn’t sit right with me. He’s too stuck up, too high and mighty to look down on people who came from money. You told me to bear with him because you thought it was all part of his charm. But this? This isn’t a charm. This is abuse.”

My lips trembled, and I didn’t know what to say anymore. There was this strange duality inside me–part of me knew she was right, but the other part, the one still clinging to all the soft moments, the laughter, the promises–refused to let go.

“I love him,” I said, quietly. “And I still want to believe he’s better than this.”

“Sophia,” she said firmly, her arms crossed, her expression torn between frustration and heartbreak. “If he really loved you… he would’ve never laid a hand on you in the first place.”

My eyes stung, but I refused to let the tears fall. Not this time. I had cried too much already–into my pillow at night, into the shower so the girls wouldn’t hear, into the silence of an empty kitchen when he’d slammed the door and left without a word. I lifted my gaze slowly to meet hers.

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9.13 AM P

Chapter 17

She wasn’t just angry. She was hurting for me. Her jaw was tight, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her voice shaking even as she tried to be strong for me.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” I whispered. “But… I loved him, V. For twelve years. Twelve damn years. He was my best friend. My first love, my first everything. You don’t just…throw that away like garbage. I can’t just let twelve fucking years down the drain!”

V let out a sigh, taking my hands in hers. “Sophia, listen to me. You’re not throwing it away. He did. The moment he chose to raise his hand against you. That was his choice. Not yours. And you can’t keep sacrificing your body, your peace, your sanity, just because you remember the version of him that loved you.”

I looked away, my breath caught in my throat. “What about Sara and Tara?” I said, barely audible. “They love their dad, V. They need him. How do I look them in the eye and say, ‘Daddy’s not the same person anymore“?”

She squeezed my hands tighter, her voice raw. “You look them in the eye and say, ‘Mommy’s not going to let anyone hurt us anymore. That’s what you do. Because they need a father, yes–but not one who hurts their mother. That’s not love. That’s not protection. That’s fear disguised as

family.”

I shook my head, trying to keep it together. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple,” she snapped, then softened. “I know it doesn’t feel like it. I know your heart is tangled in a million knots and your memories won’t let go. But Sophia… There’s a difference between love and blind faith. You’ve been holding on so tightly to the idea of who he used to be that you’re bleeding from the thorns he’s become.”

Her words shattered something in me. I pressed my palm to my chest as if it would stop the breaking. “I keep thinking maybe it was my fault. Maybe I pushed him too far, maybe I said something wrong, maybe if I’d just-”

“No,” she cut in firmly. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for his choices. I don’t care what you said. I don’t care how angry he was. There is no excuse. You are a human being, Sophia. A woman with rights. With dignity. And no matter how long you’ve been with him, no matter how much you love him, you deserve respect. You deserve safety. And if he can’t give you that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”