The Indifferent Ex-Husband: Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate novel Chapter 36

Sophia just gave a slight nod.

"If I'm not around here, I'll make sure someone else takes care of you, so don't sweat it," Brandon said, as he helped her lug her bags into the master bedroom. Glancing at his watch, he added, "It's getting late, you should hit the sack."

Sophia nodded silently again.

"You too, get some shut-eye."

Brandon let out a soft "Hmm" and on his way out, he kindly closed the door behind him.

Sophia had already freshened up back at home, so she turned off the lights and got into bed.

The mattress in this five-star hotel was comfy and plush, but sleep just wasn't coming to Sophia.

In just half a day, it seemed like everything had looped back to square one.

Not a great feeling, to say the least.

Her hand instinctively rested on her flat belly, knowing full well that the heart of the matter was the child inside her, just like it was two years ago.

The thought of retracing her past life steps was something she instinctively pushed against.

In the dead of night, amidst this resistance, she drifted into a fitful sleep, caught between dreams and reality. Every time she closed her eyes, she was besieged by dreams. In the bizarre dreamscapes, Sophia felt like she was back in Brandon's West district house, living there alone year-round, a place vast and empty, devoid of life and, contrary to her expectations, free will. Patricia, with her graceful and proper demeanor, appeared in her dreams, her words laced with hidden barbs, waking Sophia in a cold sweat. When she looked out the window, the sky was already bright.

Sophia ran her palm from her forehead through her hair to the back of her head, feeling the dampness at the roots.

She sat in silence for a while, taking in the empty beauty of the room. Just one night, and she was already missing her cozy, albeit cramped, little studio.

The room came with an en-suite bathroom stocked with everything one could need.

Sophia went through the motions of washing up and getting dressed with a wooden expression. Only then did she open the door to leave her room.

The door to the adjacent bedroom was already ajar.

Her gaze shifted from the open room to the living room, where, in the open-plan kitchen, Brandon was fixing breakfast.

His tall, upright figure was dressed in casual home wear, lacking the usual sharp aura he had in a suit, replaced instead by a more down-to-earth vibe.

Brandon could cook, and he was pretty darn good at it, something Sophia had always known.

But rarely did she get to taste his cooking or see him bustling about in the kitchen like this.

The ordinary life and the day-to-day domesticity were never part of his world. His life revolved around that small desk in his office.

On weekends when he wasn't working, and they were both home, Brandon would occasionally whip something up, but it was rare. Sophia wasn't sure if it was because he wasn't into it, or because she had already taken over all the chores, leaving him no stage to show off his skills.

During her long stretches of unemployment, she had developed a Pavlovian response to cook meals on time, as if only by doing so could she prove her worth.

But Sophia had always despised this reflex.