AB
Chapter 2
A dull thud echoed from the kitchen.
Brandon’s expression shifted instantly.
“Sophia, what the hell?” he snapped, his voice tight. “That cake cost a fortune! How could you just throw it away? I haven’t even had any!”
“I don’t keep allergens in the house. It’s a hazard.”
I turned on the faucet, my voice as calm as if I were commenting on the weather.
My words hung in the air, leaving him speechless. He took a sharp breath, visibly reining in his anger, and jabbed a finger toward the shirt. “Fine. My bad about the cake. Then fix the damn shirt. I’m starving–I’m making noodles.”
He turned on his heel and headed for the kitchen, moving with familiar ease as he rummaged through the cabinet for pasta.
I dried my hands, picked up the silk shirt, and walked into the laundry room.
No basin of lukewarm water this time. I simply opened the washing machine, balled the shirt up, and tossed it inside.
I poured in the regular detergent, selected the “Heavy Duty” cycle, and hit start.
As the drum began its violent, rumbling dance, I’knew the delicate fabric was finished.
Brandon was walking out with his bowl of noodles just as the machine kicked into the spin cycle.
He paused, then lunged for the laundry room. His eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the spinning drum.
“Sophia! Are you out of your mind? That shirt cost over four hundred dollars! I told you it had to be handwashed!”
He frantically slammed the stop button and yanked open the door. Pulling out the shirt -now a crumpled, shapeless rag, the collar twisted beyond repair–his face contorted
Chapter 2
AI
Pocket Al 5
تاجروں میں شامل ہوں۔
آج
انسٹال کریں۔
20.00%
with something like physical pain.
Leaning against the doorframe, I watched his frantic anger and felt absolutely nothing.
“I used to handwash it because I loved you,” I said, meeting his furious gaze, a cold, sharp smile touching my lips. “Because I thought you were worth the effort.”
I let the pause hang, heavy and deliberate.
“Now? The machine works just fine. You’ll just wrinkle it anyway.Why waste the time?”
Brandon stared at me as if seeing a stranger. “You weren’t like this before. What’s gotten into you lately, Sophia? Is this still because I took out Fiona’s trash a few times? Are you really going to hold onto this forever?”
Ah. So he knew.
He knew exactly what I was upset about, yet he chose to play dumb, even turning it around to accuse me of clinging to a grudge.
I looked at the sodden, ruined fabric in his hands and said softly, “Brandon, a ruined shirt can be replaced.”
I held his gaze, letting the final words land with quiet finality.
“But some things, once broken, can’t ever be fixed.”
After the cake incident, Brandon didn’t speak a proper word to me in the house for two days.
But his Instagram told a different story,
He’d blocked my main account but forgotten about the backup.
Yesterday, he’d posted a photo of himself fixing a shoe cabinet in the hallway.
Caption: Can anyone relate?! My neighbor is not only tall and handsome, but also ridiculously handy!
In the corner of the photo, just visible, were a pair of feet in fuzzy pink bunny slippers.
Chapter 2
AI
Those were Fiona’s.
A quick scroll down led me to Fiona’s feed.
Same angle,a shot of Brandon’s back as he crouched, screwdriver in hand, a cute
cartoon band–aid on his knuckle.
Her caption: Some people’s hands are meant for signing million–dollar contracts, but
they’ll still get them scratched up fixing a cabinet for little ol‘ me. Feeling all the feels~
The posts played off each other like a poorly rehearsed, secret duet.
I gave his post a ‘like‘.
Then I closed the app, peeled the last shrimp on the dining table, and placed it calmly into my own bowl.
Brandon sat across from me, his expression sour.
