I stared at the dining table, completely covered with a variety of dishes. Rich, savory aromas filled the air, making my stomach grumble in loud 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 immediately began piling on more food. "You need to eat more."
A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I listened to her warmly lecture me about proper eating habits.
As she handed the now-heaping plate back to me, she added casually, "Harley should be joining us shortly."
The faint smile on my lips froze, and I tried to steady the sudden, uneasy feeling rising in my stomach. He was home. How had I not known?
Before I could say another word, faint footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing heavier and clearer with each passing second. The hand holding my chopsticks began to tremble. I swallowed hard against a sudden lump in my throat, completely unsure of when it had formed.
Mrs. Huang reached across the table and covered my shaking hand with hers, worry etching deep lines into 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, and laced with pure irritation. He was on the phone. My eyes widened as his harsh words cut through the quiet air.
"We're over. Stop calling my phone, or there will be consequences."
The absolute coldness in his tone sent a chill down my spine, making the tiny hairs along my arms stand up. 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 dripping from every syllable.
I looked up, ready to reply, but the words instantly died in my throat. My eyes widened as his blue gaze locked onto mine—deep, cold, and entirely unreadable. It felt as though he could see straight through me, picking apart every nerve.
A heavy silence filled the room as he walked in and took the seat directly opposite me, right beside his mother.
Mrs. Huang clasped her hands together, smiling brightly, blissfully unaware of the shift in the air. "Harley, darling, isn't it wonderful that Sophie is back?"
He muttered something under his breath, too low for me to catch, while a suffocating tension settled over the table. I glanced at Mrs. Huang, who seemed far too caught up in her own excitement to notice the hostility radiating from her son.
Abruptly, I stood, the legs of my chair scraping harshly against the floor. 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, keeping my eyes averted. "I'm going to my room to finish unpacking."
Before anyone could object, I rushed out of the room and practically ran up the stairs to my bedroom. As soon as the door clicked shut behind me, I leaned my weight against the wood, my breath coming in ragged, unsteady gasps.
He hates me. He really hates me.
My knees gave out beneath me. I sank to the floor, pulling my legs up and wrapping my arms tightly around them. I buried my face against my knees as quiet, pathetic sobs finally escaped my chest. I came back because I missed everyone—especially him. But maybe... maybe I shouldn't have come back at all.
Knock. Knock.
"Who is it?" I asked, lifting my head and frantically wiping the wetness from my cheeks.
"Open the door."
My heart hammered against my ribs. I pushed myself to my feet and took a hesitant step back, my eyes fixed on the wooden floorboards. "It's open."
The door creaked inward, and Harley stepped inside, clicking it shut behind him. He leaned against the frame, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why are you back?" he asked.
I looked up at him, offering a sad, fragile smile through my tear-stained face. "Why are you treating me this way?"
Harley clenched his jaw. A bitter laugh escaped him, low and entirely devoid of humor. "You really don't know?" His eyes hardened, the familiar warmth I once found in them completely wiped away.
"You left," he said, his voice cold, steady, and merciless. "Without a word. Without a single explanation. You disappeared like none of us mattered... like I didn't matter."
Each word felt like a serrated 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 and fierce. "But you didn't."
Silence fell between us again, thick and suffocating.
"So tell me, Sophie," he demanded at last, his voice utterly flat, all emotion buried beneath layers of steel. "Why are you back now? People who love don't disappear. They don't walk away without looking back."
My chest tightened so painfully I could barely draw breath. "I was scared," I whispered. The words felt small, fragile, and entirely meaningless against the crushing weight of everything sitting between us.
Harley's gaze sharpened into daggers. "Scared of what?"
I hesitated. My lips parted, but no real explanation came. "I didn't know what to do," I said softly, lowering my eyes back to the floor in shame. "Everything felt... overwhelming. So I ran."
It wasn't the whole truth. It wasn't even close. But it was all I could bring myself to give him right now.
Harley studied me for a long, agonizing moment, his expression completely unreadable. "You ran," he repeated finally, his voice calm but frighteningly firm. "And you didn't look back."
My fingers tightened into fists at my sides.
"I don't trust you anymore, Sophie."
The declaration landed harder than I ever expected. It felt as if all the remaining air had been violently 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 perfectly controlled. "You don't get to say you were scared and think that magically fixes anything."
I swallowed hard, blinking back the fresh, hot wave of tears threatening to spill over my lashes. "I'm not asking for things to be the same," I whispered.
"Good," he replied without a second of hesitation. "Because they aren't."
The absolute finality of his words settled heavily between us. I kept my gaze lowered, my voice barely steady enough to speak. "I never expected forgiveness. I know I hurt you. And I know I don't have the right to ask for anything from you." My throat seized, but I forced the last few words out. "I just... came back."
The confession felt pathetic, but it was honest.
For a brief fraction of a second, something flickered in his ice-blue eyes—something too quick to understand, and too guarded to trust. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, swallowed up by his defensive walls.
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, familiar warmth of his presence, yet impossibly distant.
The door opened. And then it closed.
Just like that, he was gone. I stood there, rooted to the spot, realizing that the silence he left behind was infinitely heavier than anything he could have possibly said. My chest ached with a hollow pressure, but no tears came this time.
Only emptiness.