I stared at the dining table, covered with a variety of dishes. Different aromas filled the air, making my stomach grumble in protest.
Embarrassed, I slipped into the seat across from Mrs. Huang and began filling my plate with small portions of each dish.
"Oh no, honey," Mrs. Huang said.
I looked at her, puzzled. "What's wrong?"
Instead of answering, she took my plate and began adding more food. "You need to eat more."
A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I listened to her lecture me about proper eating habits.
As she handed my plate back to me, she added, "Harley should be joining us shortly."
A faint smile touched my lips as I tried to steady the uneasy feeling rising in my stomach.
He was home.
How had I not known?
Before I could say anything, faint footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing clearer with each step. The hand holding my chopsticks began to tremble, and I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat, unsure of when it had formed.
Mrs. Huang reached across the table and took my trembling hand, worry etched across her face. "Sophie, you're looking pale. Do you need to go to the hospital? Harley can—"
"I—I'm fine," I murmured softly.
As the footsteps drew nearer, his voice reached the dining room — low, sharp, laced with irritation. He was on the phone.
My eyes widened as his words cut through the air. "We're over. Stop calling my phone, or there will be consequences."
The coldness in his voice sent a chill down my spine, the tiny hairs along my skin rising. I flinched in my seat when his footsteps came to an abrupt halt at the entrance of the dining room.
"You're back," he muttered, sarcasm lacing his voice.
I looked up, ready to reply, but the words died in my throat.
My eyes widened as his blue gaze locked onto mine — deep, cold, unreadable. It felt as though he could see straight through me.
Silence filled the room as he walked in and took a seat opposite me, beside his mother.
Mrs. Huang clasped her hands together, smiling brightly. "Harley, darling, isn't it wonderful that Sophie is back?"
He muttered something under his breath, too low for me to catch, while tension settled heavily over the table. I glanced at Mrs. Huang, who seemed too caught up in her excitement to notice.
Abruptly, I stood, pushing my chair back.
Both of them looked at me — though Harley's attention quickly returned to his plate as he began serving himself.
"I'm full," I said quietly. "I'm going to my room to finish unpacking."
Before anyone could say anything, I rushed out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom. The door shut behind me, and I leaned against it, breath unsteady.
He hates me.
He really hates me.
My knees gave out beneath me, and I sank to the floor, wrapping my arms around them and burying my face against my chest as quiet sobs escaped.
I came back because I miss everyone — especially him. But maybe… maybe I shouldn't have come back.
Knock. Knock.
"Who is it?" I asked, lifting my head and quickly wiping away my tears.
"Open the door."
I pushed myself to my feet and stepped back, eyes fixed on the wooden floor. "It's open."
The door creaked open. Harley stepped inside and closed it behind him. Leaning against the door with his arms crossed, he asked, "Why are you back?"
I looked up at him with a tear-stained face, offering a sad smile. "Why are you treating me this way?"
Harley clenched his jaw. A bitter laugh escaped him, low and humourless. "You really don't know?"
His eyes hardened, the warmth I once knew nowhere to be found.
"You left," he said, voice cold, steady, merciless. "Without a word. Without an explanation. You disappeared like none of us mattered… like I didn't matter."
Each word felt like a blade sinking deeper into my chest.
"I waited," he continued, quieter now, but no less sharp. "For weeks. For months. Hoping you'd come back. Hoping you'd say something. Anything."
His gaze locked onto mine, unyielding. "But you didn't."
Silence fell between us again, heavy and suffocating.
"So tell me, Sophie," he said at last, voice flat, emotion buried beneath steel, "why are you back now?"
"People who love don't disappear," he said, voice low and cutting. "They don't walk away without looking back."
My chest tightened.
"I was scared," I whispered.
The words felt small, fragile, almost meaningless against the weight of everything between us.
Harley's gaze sharpened. "Scared of what?"
I hesitated. My lips parted… but no explanation came. "I didn't know what to do," I said softly, eyes lowering to the floor.
"Everything felt… overwhelming. So I ran."
Silence stretched between us, heavy and unresolved.
It wasn't the whole truth. Not even close. But it was all I could give him right now.
Silence lingered between us.
Harley studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You ran," he said finally, voice calm but firm. "And you didn't look back."
My fingers tightened at my sides.
"I don't trust you anymore, Sophie."
The words landed harder than I expected. It felt as if the air had been knocked from my lungs.
"You don't get to walk back into my life and expect things to be the same," he continued, his tone steady, controlled. "You don't get to say you were scared and think that fixes anything."
I swallowed, blinking back the fresh wave of tears threatening to fall. "I'm not asking for things to be the same," I whispered.
"Good," he replied without hesitation. "Because they aren't."
The words settled heavily between us. I lowered my gaze, my voice barely steady. "I never expected forgiveness."
Silence followed.
Harley didn't move, didn't speak, but I could feel his eyes on me — sharp, searching, distant.
"I know I hurt you," I continued softly. "And I know I don't have the right to ask for anything from you."
My throat tightened.
"I just… came back."
The confession felt small, fragile, but honest.
For a brief second, something flickered in his eyes — too quick to understand, too guarded to trust. Then it was gone. The room fell quiet again.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then, without another word, Harley pushed himself away from the door. He didn't look at me as he walked past — close enough for me to feel the faint warmth of his presence, yet impossibly distant.
The door opened. And then it closed. Just like that, he was gone. I stood there, unmoving, the silence he left behind heavier than anything he could have said.
My chest tightened, but no tears came this time. Only emptiness.