The Indifferent Ex-Husband Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate

Sophia flashed her daughter a comforting smile, "It's pouring outside. Mommy got soaked, so | need to go inside and change out of

these wet clothes. Don't worry, darling."

Theresa nodded, somewhat confused, "Emm."

She then quickly urged her mother, "Mommy, hurry."

Sophia chuckled and nodded, "Alrighty."

She took a hot shower.

The warmth washed away the day's exhaustion and the puffiness from her eyes.

When Sophia emerged from the bathroom, she felt refreshed and reinvigorated.

The ever-curious Susan immediately pounced on her with a bit of juicy gossip, "Your senior declared his love for you today?"

Sophia gave her a glance, "Where did you hear that?"

Susan shrugged, "C'mon, it wasn’t a secret meeting; other students were there too, you know."

The other students who were invited too had been witnesses to the declaration, with one even broadcasting it live in the class

group chat.

Sophia, not a member of the group chat, was unaware of this whole thing.

"Why did you turn down your senior?" Susan asked curiously, actually quite supportive of Ivan.

Back in college, it was evident that Ivan was fond of Sophia. But probably due to graduation, living in different cities, or something

else, he had disappeared after graduation and hadn't pursued her further.

Sophia paused mid-hair-dry at Susan's words, then looked at her and said, "Isn't that just another Brandon in making?"

Susan paused, struck by the comparison, but then shook her head.

"That's different," she countered, "with Brandon, you were smitten. With Ivan, he's the one smitten with you. Loving and being

loved definitely not the sthing."

Sophia looked at her, "That would only make another ‘Sophia.’ | know all too well the bitterness of unrequited love. I'm not about to

mislead an honest man. Ivan deserves better."

Susan fell silent.

"But you didn't even give him a chance. What if that constantly being around someone might kindle something?" Susan, after quite

a while, found her voice again.

"We had spent a whole year together when he was our class advisor," Sophia explained, "followed by another two years as

classmates in Wye City. If there were any sparks, we would have felt them a long tago."

Susan persisted, "But circumstances were different back then. The first tyou were hung up on Brandon, the second tyou

were pregnant. How could you possibly notice someone else's good qualities?"

Sophia stood firm, "And that's exactly why | can’t toy with his affections."

"You haven't hidden anything from him. If he's pursuing willing, how can it be called ‘toy with his affections’?"

"Stringing him along without reciprocation is toying," Sophia said, looking at Susan seriously, "Susan, love should be mutual.

Unrequited love is unfair to the one pouring their heart out. It can't endure. Eventually, the imbalance and exhaustion will set in."

"What about Brandon, then?" Susan asked, "I've heard he caused quite a scene today."

Sophia's face grew colder, "Susan, | don't want to talk about him."

Susan looked at Sophia worriedly—it was the first tshe had seen Sophia so emphatically refuse to discuss Brandon.

Even the little girl playing nearby sensed the shift in the atmosphere, her big, expressive eyes fixed on Sophia in confusion.

Sophia looked back at Theresa with thoughtful eyes.

Without saying a word, she simply squatted down and gently petted her head.

Theresa looked up, "Mommy's sad."

"Not at all."

Sophia assured her with a smile, then lifted her, "Do you want Mommy to join you?"

"Yeah!"

Living in a straightforward world, the little girl immediately brightened up at the change of subject, eagerly handing Sophia blocks

on the playmat.

Sophia smiled, accepting the blocks, "Tell Mommy where to put this one."

The little one directed her hand to place the blocks, seriously and excitedly.

Watching her daughter's joyful expression in profile, Sophia found herself momentarily lost in thought.

Theresa, from certain angles, bore a resemblance to Brandon.

After leaving Zachary's mansion, Brandon got straight into his car.

Don, worried, followed suit, not even bothering with his own vehicle. He insisted on joining Brandon in his car, offering to be his

driver.

With one hand out of commission, Don didn't trust Brandon's ability to drive.

Brandon's face was tense the entire drive, silent throughout. He didn't ask Don to leave, nor did he give up the driver's seat,

driving single-handedly to the hospital.

His palm was severely injured, the shards of glass embedded deep in the flesh, tiny and numerous.

The doctor couldn't help but frown at the sight, "What happened there?"

"Crappy glass quality, just squeezed it too hard."

Don explained, chuckling, and couldn't resist glancing at Brandon's injury.

The nurse was delicately picking out glass with tweezers, and Don winced just looking at it, glancing at Brandon again.

Brandon remained calm, just impassively letting the nurse do her job.

The treatment lasted for hours.

Not once did Brandon show pain, nor did he utter a word, his face remaining stern throughout.

Don could somewhat understand Brandon's mood but found it hard to say anything to comfort.

Sophia and Brandon were both too involved with each other to have a clear perspective; and they refused to acknowledge the

other’s importance in their lives.

Don had been with Brandon as brother-in-arms for over two decades; he knew him inside out.

Brandon had coped with the loss of his mother, a blow that had deeply affected him. It took him a while to recover from the dark

period with Yolanda's support, only to lose her as well.

Those successive losses had molded his view on life into something quite extreme.

To him, whether it was parting ways in life or through death, loved ones will always leave someday, and accepting pain is

inevitable.

Keep everyone at arm's length, and you avoid the pain that comes with loss.

Since then, he didn't keep pets and kept his distance from everyone.

He closed himself off from emotions to ensure that no one's departure could cause him pain.

Such a life might lack excitement, but it was precisely his restraint that rendered Brandon impervious to others.

Sophia appeared to be the exception.

Don could tell just how much she affected Brandon.

Brandon must have felt the vibe; his inner struggle was likely a battle between head and heart.

His head was telling him to remove any disruptive elements from his life, returning to his composure and serenity.

But when it cdown to severing ties, his heart wouldn't let him.

Don had no clue how long Brandon would wrestle with himself.

When Don dropped him off at his apartment complex, he couldn't help but ask, "You good, Brandon?"

"I'm fine."

Just two words, spoken with composed detachment.

As soon as he finished speaking, Brandon was stepping out.

"Get srest, no need to worry about me," he added in his typically unruffled tone.

"OK," Don signaled his agreement, paused, and couldn't resist asking, "What about Sophia?"

"Don't bother with her."

Brandon cut him off.

Don nodded in understanding; Brandon was clearly not in the mood for a conversation tonight.

"You rest up too, keep an eye on that wound," Don said before driving away.

But he remained concerned. After all, Brandon was a patient with an injured hand. The next morning, using the excuse of returning

his car, Don went to check on him.

Brandon was already focused on work, seated at the dining table with his laptop open.

Next to his laptop was a cup of cold coffee.

The injury was to the left hand, wrapped up in white gauze, but it didn't hinder his right hand as it flew across the keyboard.

His face was no longer strained as it had been the day before, but he still looked impassive.

"How's the hand?" Don asked, raising an eyebrow as he saw Brandon working at the dining table.

"Fine," Brandon said flatly, "What brings you here?"

"Just returning your car," Don said, tossing the car keys to him.

Brandon caught them with his right hand and tossed them onto the table.

"Have you eaten?" he inquired.

"That should be my question," Don replied, glancing toward the kitchen.

"I've eaten."

Brandon's voice remained even, his eyes fixated on the screen.

Don nodded, pulled up a chair next to him, glanced at the laptop, and then at Brandon, "You seem to be handling it quite well."

"What else can | do?" Brandon said, not looking up.

Don nodded again. Indeed, what else could Brandon do?

Having known Sophia for over a year, he understood that once she made up her mind, it was hard to sway her.

He once thought Brandon could change her mind through his authority.

"But to be honest, that was rather cold of you," Don said, looking at Brandon, "Sophia had no idea Patricia wasn't your biological

mother."

Brandon's hands paused on the keyboard, and his eyes snapped to Don.

"What did you say to her? When did this cup?"

"Just yesterday, at the banquet," Don replied, surprised by Brandon's reaction, "I mentioned your childhood, about the death of

your mother."

After Don finished his words, Brandon's expression shifted, and he pushed the laptop aside forcefully.

"I need to go out for a while."

Brandon said, grabbing the car keys he'd just set aside and heading toward the door.

Don watched, baffled, "What happened? Did | say the wrong thing?"

"It's not about you."

Brandon said as he headed out.

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