2: I should go

SOPHIA

The next morning, the house was quiet. Ollie was at school, and Marc had gone to work. I supposed Victoria was back at the office where she belonged with Marc.

I cleaned the kitchen slowly, stacking plates and wiping the counters. My body moved on its own, but my mind was elsewhere. I thought about Ollie’s words. She can be my second mom. The sound of those words played over and over in my head, like a record stuck in the same groove.

By noon, I couldn’t sit still anymore. The house felt too small and too heavy. I grabbed my bag and left without a particular destination in mind, but it was no surprise when I found myself at the biggest departmental store. 

It was only a few stops away, but I hadn’t been there in years, since before Ollie was born. It held memories I didn’t want to visit until now. Back then, I used to visit every week, sketchbook tucked under my arm, with my eyes sharp with inspiration. But those days were gone.

Inside, the store buzzed with life. Bright lights adorned the ceiling with polished floors and the scent of perfume in the air. People carried bags, laughing and moving with purpose. I felt out of place, like a shadow among them.

Still, I wandered until I arrived at the section marked Glamour Galore.

The name made my chest tighten because it was once mine. Or half mine, anyway. Floral and I had built it from the ground up. We’d studied together at Kolbe Fashion Academy, one of the toughest, most prestigious fashion schools in the world. We dreamed side by side, working nights, and stitching fabrics until our fingers bled. We launched a line that took off faster than we imagined. 

But I walked away. I could still remember the day I told Floral. She had begged me not to quit. Told me we could make it work. That I could have both. A family and a job. But Marc had been clear. He wanted me home with Ollie. 

So I chose him. I chose them. We sold the company, but the buyers kept the name since it was trendy, and that was that. The money kept me comfortable for the first few years, along with Marc’s stipends that came monthly. But my dreams ended the day I signed those papers.

Now, standing here, I felt like an intruder. 

The displays gleamed under the lights. There were dresses made of soft silk, sharp blazers with clean lines, and skirts cut to perfection. The designs tugged at something in me. It was too familiar. I stared at one dress in particular, a pink sheath with delicate pleating along the shoulders. 

It was my design. I knew that pleats, the stitching, and even the hidden zipper in the back, because I had drawn that pattern years ago.

“Can I help you?” a voice asked.

At the voice, I turned. A sales clerk stood there, smiling thinly, while her eyes scanned me from head to toe. Her gaze lingered on my faded jeans and scuffed shoes.

“Oh, no worries,” I said. “I’m just browsing.” 

“Right.”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She looked at me like I had no business here. Like she could smell the years I’d spent cooking, cleaning, and waiting for a man who barely looked at me now. I ignored her and kept moving. 

Window shopping wasn’t against the rule, was it? Maybe Floral was here. The last time we spoke, she said she worked as Glamour Galore’s manager. It had been too long since I’d seen her, but maybe today I’d get lucky.

But it didn’t take long for the clerk to reappear again, stepping into my path. “If you haven’t found anything you like,” she said sharply, no politeness. “You can leave.”

Her words stung. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, a man’s voice cut through the air.

“She can stay,” he said. The command was firm enough for no one to argue. “And she can window shop as long as she likes.”

The clerk paled. “Sir, I—”

“Is this how we treat customers now?” he asked, his brows lifting in disapproval. “Apologize, or you’re fired.”

Apologize to who? Me? The clerk’s face went white, and she turned to me quickly. “I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

Butterflies fluttered in my belly. My mouth opened and shut. It had been too long since anyone spoke up for me.

“It’s fine,” I murmured, trying to wave it off. “I’m fine.”

But the man wasn’t having it. “Stay,” he told me. He offered me a smile. “Take your time. Look around.”

Was he serious? There was no one to rush home to, so I nodded. My hands brushed over the racks, touching fabrics that were once second nature to me. My pulse quickened with each remembered stitch and familiar line. Most of them cost more than my net worth. 

The man stayed close, watching quietly.

“Do you like anything?” he asked after a while.

This must be a joke. I laughed, the sound bitter in my own ears. “It doesn’t matter if I do,” I said, looking over my shoulder. “The clerk was right to want me gone. I wouldn’t be able to afford any of this even if I wanted it.”

“No.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Everyone is welcome here. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

His words gave me pause, and I studied him. He was tall, confident, with dark brown hair that curled slightly at the ends. Yes, he was handsome, but beyond that, there was a weight in his presence. An authority you couldn’t fake. He didn’t look like a regular shopper. Manager, maybe. Or someone even higher.

Trying to shake off the warmth creeping into my chest, I smiled faintly. He must be someone important if he could threaten the rude clerk. She looked ready to faint.

He stayed close as I drifted from one rack to another. When I paused by the pink sheath dress, he stepped closer. “That one is pretty,” he said. “You should have it.”

“Oh.” My eyes widened. “No. I shouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

He lifted it carefully, like it mattered, and held it out. “Consider it an apology. For how she treated you earlier.”

“No, I’m sorry. But I can’t accept that.”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “And you should. Take it. At Glamour Galore, our customers are our top priority. A lot.”

My fingers itched to touch the fabric, but I hesitated. It had been years since I wore anything new or something that wasn’t bought on clearance. Slowly, I reached out and took the dress. It looked so expensive and very soft. 

“Thank you,” I whispered

“Don’t thank me,” he replied. “Just promise you won’t hold her attitude today against us and stop coming here.”

A small laugh bubbled out of me. “I’ll try not to.”

Our eyes met, and he winked. Holding something this beautiful in my hand while being noticed by a man this handsome felt… strange. Strange but nice. I let myself feel the flutter in my chest and the heat in my cheeks. Until I remembered I was a married woman with a son. 

Whatever this was, it wasn’t for me.

“Don’t stop browsing on account of me,” he said.

“Of course not,” I muttered. 

We chatted a little more, about nothing and everything. He asked if I came often. I told him no. He said I should. His voice was calm, like he wasn’t used to being ignored.

Finally, I glanced at the time. “I should go,” I said. 

It was almost closing time. Ollie would be home soon. I had to return to make his meal and that of his father. 

The man nodded and reached into his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing me a business card. “Maybe we can continue this conversation some other time. Miss…?”

I didn’t glance at the card. My first instinct was to tell him I was married. To shut this down before it went further. But I needed a job. I needed a way back into the corporate work life, and if this man could help, I couldn’t turn him down. 

“Thanks,” I said, slipping the card into my bag. 

Before the flutter in my chest betrayed me, I hurried out of the store.