Engaged to the City's Coldest Woman

"How is your dad doing?"

The text from Sophia Wilson sat on the screen, a stinging reminder that arrived too late.

I sat on the bench outside the operating theatre, still clutching a ballpoint pen. The plastic cap had cracked under my grip, its sharp edges biting into my palm.

The nurse pushed the door open, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. "Mr. Ellery, your father's out of immediate danger for now, but we'll need to keep him under close observation."

I nodded.

My phone vibrated again as a second text from Sophia popped up.

"Harrison is feeling better now. I'm heading your way."

I stared at the words for a long time before replying concisely, "That won't be necessary."

She called immediately after, but I didn't answer.

By the time Dad was rolled into the ICU, dawn had already broken.

I watched him through the glass window as he lay in the hospital bed with half of his face swallowed by an oxygen mask.

My mind suddenly drifted back to the night of our engagement party.

When Sophia slipped the ring onto my finger, her fingertips had brushed against my knuckles as she whispered, "Conrad, if anything ever happens, you come to me first."

The applause from the crowd had been deafening, and back then, I had actually believed her.

At 8:00 am, Sophia finally arrived at the hospital wearing the same black coat from the night before. Her collar was slightly wrinkled, and she carried a mixed scent of antiseptic and men's cologne.

When she caught sight of me, her pace faltered. "Why didn't you answer my calls?" she asked.

I leaned back against the wall, my voice sounding raspy. "I didn't want to wake Harrison."

Her brows knitted together at my response. "Conrad Ellery, do you really have to use that tone with me?"

Keeping my eyes fixed on the floor, I countered, "What do you want me to say? Should I thank you for remembering my dad in the middle of your busy schedule?"

Sophia fell silent for a moment before reaching out to wrap her fingers around my wrist. The gesture was soft and gentle, mimicking how a doctor would coax a patient.

"Last night was an emergency," she explained. "Harrison suffers from severe panic attacks, and he can't handle any emotional triggers."

I pulled my hand back from her touch. "My dad was fighting for his life."

"I know," she said, her tone softening. "But your dad was already in the hospital, where he had doctors and a system looking after him. Harrison only had me."

He only had her.

As those words fell, a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Sophia looked at me, a flash of irritation crossing her eyes as she snapped, "Stop making a scene. I'm here now, aren't I?"

To her, just showing up was enough to make amends.

She believed that her crumbs of affection, her belated explanations, and her retroactive attention were things I should gratefully accept whenever she finally got around to offering them.

The doctor stepped out of the office right then, handing me a thick stack of medical bills alongside the upcoming treatment plan.

Just as I reached for them, Sophia intercepted the papers.

"I'll handle this," she said, her fingers deftly sweeping through the pages with a calm, professional demeanor. "I'll get a specialist to reevaluate the surgical plan, so don't stress too much."

If this had happened in the past, her reassurance would've lifted a massive weight off my shoulders.

But right now, her empty promises only left me completely numb.

Just then, her phone rang.

Sophia glanced down, her expression visibly softening the moment she saw the caller ID. It was Harrison Cross.

Instead of answering, she swiped to decline the call, but a second later, a text from him lit up the screen anyway.

"Sophia, I'm awake. The room feels so empty. I'm scared."

Sophia tightened her grip on the medical bills. I saw the movement, and she knew I saw it.

The air turned perfectly still for a few seconds before she looked up, her voice steady. "I'll go handle your dad's bills first, then I'll go check on him."

I stared at the paperwork in her hands and said, "No need."

Sophia frowned. "Conrad, this is no time to throw a tantrum."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum," I replied, snatching the bills back from her hands and straightening the papers one by one. "I can handle my dad's affairs myself."

She stared at me, trying to figure out if I was just playing mind games to get her to apologize, but I simply turned around and walked toward the billing counter.

Behind me, Harrison called her once more, and this time, Sophia answered it.

"Don't be scared," she murmured. "I'll be back soon."

I didn't stop walking.

There was a long line, and the fluorescent light above the counter flickered rhythmically as I looked down at the ring on my finger.

The diamond was still brilliant, but all of a sudden, I felt as though it had lost track of me completely.