Cracks In The Glass

Cipher's POV

Someone in the room was laughing at me, and there was a good chance that it was God.

I had seen Arnold Grey immediately he entered the ball room trutting with his high attitude like he owned the place. The smile that doesn't reach his eyes, could have fooled anyone and by his side was his infamous obsessive partner Joanne Rivers, clad in blood red silk and trechery.

I felt my jaws clench unconsciously, and my first thought was What the hell are you doing here? Who the fuck invited them here? This event was supposed to be tight, vetted, and business-only. The kind of crowd that wouldn’t ask too many questions. I glanced at Sophie beside me. No...not Sophie. That wasn’t her name. I gave her that name. Gave her a face she didn’t recognize and a life that wasn’t hers, and now the spirits of her actual existence were narrowing.

Please don't remember them, i prayed mentally hoping she won't recognise them as they approached us. My chest tightened at every step they took closer to us because i know one single mistake could take her down memory lane with these double faced couple. 

I felt Sophie’s breath hitch. Subtle. But I noticed. And my skeleton almost jumped out of my skin when she asked if they had met before. Her body could recognise them. I knew I had to tell her, obviously, but not now, I am not ready for that. 

I was so relieved when Joanne finally dragged her husband away as she was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the little conversation, even though her dry smile was plastered all over her face, but Sophie didn’t move right away. Her eyes stayed fixed on the crowd, her brows drawn together. Her body was still, too still.

“You alright?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

“I’m fine.” She nodded.

The problem is, she wasn’t. I knew what fine looked like, and that wasn’t it. 

I decided to take her home early. The driver was already waiting by the curb.

I didn’t speak much on the walk out, and she didn’t either. It's not like I didn't know what to say, but the guilt eating me up alive wouldn't let me say anything. So, I just kept her hand gently tucked into the crook of my arm like we were still playing the part.

Inside the car, I told the driver to take the long way. She didn’t question it.

The first five minutes were quiet. City lights flashed through the windows, painting her face in soft golds and blues. Her posture was perfect, like she’d been carved into place, but her fingers twisted a little in her lap, tight, then not tight, then tight again like a nervous little child.

I despised myself because of what I told her last night. Every word I said had been a battle weapon, and I had pierced her with them as if she weren't already living in pain every day she woke up with no memory of who she was five months ago when I rescued her from the crash that took her life. 

She turned her face slightly towards the window but i could still see the reflection of her shiny face. She bit on her lips, which was something she only does when she was nervous.

So I decided to say something to ease the tension building up. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said last night,” I said, finally breaking the silence.

She didn’t respond right away.

“I was angry,” I added. “I wasn't mad at you. I was just mad at... Just… everything.” Still, nothing.

“I know I’ve made things hard for you,” I said again. 

That made her laugh, just a soft, bitter puff of air. 

“You know?” she said without looking at me. 

I glanced at her. “I'm not asking you to forgive me.”

“Good, because I won't.”

Ouch, I deserved that. I swallowed hard and nodded.

She shifted, finally turning her body to face me. Her voice was quiet, but firm. 

“Why do you despise me so much?”

I froze.

“I don’t,” I said immediately. Too quickly.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Her eyes were different tonight. Not glassy, not doe-eyed. There was something clearer behind them, something sharper, almost… awakening. She didn't blink, so I looked away first.

“I don’t hate you,” I said again, slower this time. “I just… I didn’t expect any of this.”

“What did you expect, Cipher?” she asked, leaning in. “You married a woman with no past. No friends. No name. I know you needed me for some deal or whatever it is you’re not saying, but I’m still human, and you are the one who decided not to share any details about my past. The least you could do was to be the friends and family I didn't know.”

Her voice cracked just slightly at the end, and I could feel her pain too.

“I know,” I whispered.

She stared at me for another long moment. I forced myself to meet her gaze.

There it was, the fear. The kind I hadn’t felt in years. Not since the night I lost Emilia, and not because Sophie was like her, but because Sophie was starting to matter. That was the problem.

I had lied to her.

I gave her a name, a face, a fake story. I told her her family was gone, even though they were gone truly just not in the way i told her. That there was no one looking for her which was partially true. I’ve kept that lie alive every day since, because if she remembers who she really is, this house of cards comes crashing down and I lose everything.

My company, My name.

And most importantly, her.

“I’m trying,” I said finally. “Even if it doesn’t look like it.”

She leaned back against the seat, crossing her arms. “Try harder.”