The Indifferent Ex-Husband Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate

Kent instantly got why Brandon was keen to keep these folks around and bump their pay.

When they were clean as a whistle, getting a pat on the back and a salary that was doubled by the big boss wasn’t gonna make

them want to bail. They couldn't find a gig this sweet anywhere else, and they were all here to make a buck, after all.

Especially with everyone spooked about the bad juju from the beam that kept failing, those willing to roll the dice and give it a

shot, well, cash was king for them.

Only someone with skeletons in their closet would think of hitting the road when the heat was on and the cops had got a smoking

gun.

“I'm on it,” Kent quickly piped up.

Brandon gave a slight nod, didn’t say another word, but stayed put. He stood where Sophia had taken her fall the night before,

gazing down at the railing, reaching out as if to touch it, his hand trembling before he could lay it down.

Kent, standing behind him, couldn't read his face and, worried, called out, “Mr. Crawley?”

“Go on, I'm fine.”

Brandon's voice was steady as he continued to look down at the railing. Finally, his shaking hand slowly gripped the railing, and

then tightened, the familiar veins slowly standing out on his arm.

That was the last place Sophia had left her mark.

Kent glanced at the bulging veins on Brandon’s arm unconsciously and then at his silhouette, worried but not daring to say more,

and simply nodded, “Alright, Mr. Crawley, make sure you take srest too.”

No answer came. Kent didn’t dare disturb Brandon any further and silently backed away.

Brandon, with his hand on the railing, imagined the horror and helplessness of Sophia being struck and flung into the air, a raw

pain surging in his chest, so intense it made his stomach clench, even breathing hurt.

Brandon never knew losing Sophia could hurt like this. He thought he'd lost her many times before - the never-again goodbyes

after high school, the turning away when they divorced, over and over. He thought he’d already lost her so many times, and he

thought he was used to it.

It was just going back to how things were before; no one was indispensable in this world.

But the thought of a world without Sophia, without her quiet, dimpled smile looking up at him, calling him “Brandon” in her

uniquely soft voice, it felt like someone had gouged a hole in his chest.

Turned out, the past had not been about losing her at all. She had just been away for a while, but she always cback.

But this time.

Brandon's grip on the railing suddenly tightened, bending him over in stomach pain. He looked out at the now calm river,

remembering those days they'd fought, the days she'd wanted to leave.

“If only I had let you go that day, how much better it would have been.”

A hoarse, slow murmur rose with the morning breeze, but other than the gentle sound of the wind over the water, no one answered

him.

“Sophia.”

He whispered her name, again and again, each ta deeper stab of pain, but he kept on calling like self-torture, more urgent and

choked with each call until the pain was too much to bear.

Regret coursed through his limbs. Brandon never knew tcould be so agonizingly long.

Long into a future without her return. What was he supposed to do; what about Theresa? But in all this time, he'd never really

spent it, never truly been there for Sophia.

When Grace arrived following Kent's directions, she saw Brandon from afar, doubled over in pain against the railing.

Seeing him like that made her heart ache for no reason, and she didn't dare to disturb him. But remembering Theresa in the hotel

trapped in a nightmare, crying and unable to wake, she had to approach him, “Mr. Crawley.”

Brandon paused but said nothing.

“Theresa's been crying in her sleep since we got back to the hotel, and she won't wake up. Should we take her to the hospital?”

Grace voiced her concern.

She felt out of her depth; Theresa was like possessed by the nightmare, crying. She and Susan didn't know what to do, so they had

no choice but to seek out Brandon.

It was Susan who had learned from Kent where to find him.

“I'll go check on her,” Brandon finally spoke, his voice so raspy it barely sounded like him.

Grace nodded quickly, leading Brandon back to the hotel.

As soon as Brandon entered the hotel suite, he saw Theresa sleeping fitfully, eyes tightly shut yet tears streaming down,

murmuring something unintelligible, her little body twitching, and her hands grasping at the air as if to catch something.

Susan was there, tending to her.

As Theresa reached out, Susan offered her hand to hold, but Theresa only grasped it briefly before releasing it to continue her

erratic movements. Susan's eyes and cheeks were streaked with tears, swollen from crying.

Brandon hurried over, sat by the bed, and took Theresa's hand.

This time, Theresa didn't let go. Instead, she clung to Brandon's hand like a lifeline, her small fingers digging into his flesh, holding

tight while still trapped in her nightmare.

Brandon leaned in, his voice hoarse as he called her name, “Theresa, Theresa, it's Daddy. Daddy's here.”

In the midst of Brandon's raspy comfort, Theresa gradually calmed down, her tightly closed eyes struggling to open, her whole

being still dazed as if just awakened from a dream, staring blankly at Brandon, her eyes still wet with tears.

“Theresa?” Brandon called softly again.

Suddenly alert, Theresa sat up quickly, looking around in confusion and asked Brandon urgently, “Daddy, where's Mommy?”

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMwWLHIOfiflO&1

MMMWWLIIOAIfO&L

mmMyWL11I01F1081

mMMwWLIIOfiflO&1