Chapter 81: Crossroads
Sophie’s POV
The hotel room had served its purpose—a sanctuary while I figured out my next move—but after three days, the walls were closing in on me. I needed to go home, even if just to collect more clothes and breathe air that didn’t smell of industrial cleaner and other people’s perfume.
I stared at my reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, barely recognizing the woman who stared back. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, and my skin looked pale, almost translucent. I’d lost weight, my collarbones now prominent above the neckline of my shirt. The past weeks had hollowed me out, leaving behind a shell of the woman I once was.
Perhaps that was fitting. The old Sophie—selfish, entitled, willing to betray her own sister for a taste of luxury—deserved to disappear.
The drive to my apartment building filled me with dread. The last time I’d been there, an angry mob had surrounded my car, hurling insults and debris with equal fervor. The humiliation still burned fresh in my memory. But I couldn’t hide forever.
As I pulled into the parking garage, I scanned the area nervously. No crowds today, just the usual scatter of residents’ vehicles. I’d had the car detailed, but faint outlines of the hateful words still ghosted across the paint job, visible if you knew what to look for. A permanent reminder, like a scar that never fully heals.
I took the service elevator to avoid running into neighbors, my keys clutched so tightly in my hand that they left indentations on my palm. When I reached my door, I hesitated, half-expecting to find more vandalism. But the door stood untouched, waiting.
The apartment felt stale and foreign, like a place I’d visited once rather than lived in for years. Mail had piled up inside the door, mostly bills and advertisements. I moved through the rooms, opening windows to let in fresh air, touching familiar objects as if to reacquaint myself with a life I’d abandoned.
My phone rang, startling me out of my thoughts. My mother’s name flashed on the screen.
"Hi, Mom," I answered, attempting to sound more put-together than I felt.
"Sophie, thank God," she said, her voice tight with worry. "I’ve been calling all morning. Are you alright?"