Five years into our marriage, William Max brought his pregnant secretary home. “You’re not well, so let her carry the baby.” I looked at him, no tears, no drama, just a nod. As I left, his friends in the living room guffawed: “William’s still got it! Sophia Miller used to be so arrogant, but now she’s completely docile.” “Sophia traded her paintbrush for a spatula, I guess she’s finally returned to her proper place.” William leisurely blew smoke rings. “Can painting put food on the table? She wouldn’t survive without me.” I didn’t say a word, just walked upstairs. My phone lit up with a new message: “Can’t you just come to me?” “You promised.” I texted back: “Okay” 1. “I’ll make the arrangements.” The reply came instantly. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down. Those words, which had felt muffled moments ago, now echoed with painful clarity. A wave of nausea, a dry heave. I collapsed onto the cold floor. I met Elara Green even before William Max did. A high school graduate, she’d been harassed by a client and fired from her hotel job. Ignoring William’s objections, I got her a position at his company. At first, he complained that I’d hired a ‘princess.’ She couldn’t even use the printer, and her data always had errors. Later, she remained clumsy, spilling coffee all over William. Yet, he, who was always fair, promoted Elara several times until she became his personal secretary. “The person you want to protect, I’ll naturally take good care of.” And he did take excellent care of Elara. The young woman now wore designer clothes and sparkling jewelry. She strutted around, proudly caressing her belly. The first time she came to our house, she seemed a little nervous around me. William grandly gestured, opening the art studio that had been locked for three years. He told her to go in and do whatever she wanted. I thought it was to entertain a guest, so I suppressed my displeasure and watched her paint haphazardly. Until she knocked over a tray of paints, ruining my old artworks. He shielded her, saying she was always clumsy, and I shouldn’t blame her. That’s when I started to grasp the true meaning behind his actions. He said my artistic skill was inferior to the young woman’s. So I learned to cook and make soup. He said I wasn’t as well-behaved as the young woman. So I tried hard to control my temper. He said men sometimes got distracted. But that he always loved me. I believed him. Until that day, when I brought him the new soup I’d learned to make. The man who said he was working late was actually ‘working late’ on the young woman. Clothes lay scattered everywhere. That was our worst fight ever. I took my cat, Luna, and my suitcase and left. He tried to coax me back a few times, but it didn’t work. Then he cut off all my credit cards. When I couldn’t afford Luna’s exorbitant vet bills and cried as I called him for help. He was on a date with Elara, his voice on the other end still calm. “Sophia Miller, you need to be obedient.” Luna died. I learned my lesson. And the young woman stood even taller. My phone screen lit up again. “The hotel is booked.” “Flight tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up.” The churning in my stomach subsided, the buzzing in my ears faded. The weight of my body suddenly returned. I moved my fingers. “Okay.” 2. I painstakingly pulled open my suitcase. The display cabinet in the room was spotless. In the very center sat a worn notebook with dog-eared pages. Beside it, a wooden carved cat, Luna. We adopted her together five years ago. William, his hands covered in scratches, gave me that gift. “Now Luna can be with you forever.” The William of today had personally cut off Luna’s life-saving funds. He had merely frowned. “It’s just a cat.” “Want me to buy you another one?” I didn’t want another cat. Tickets, photos, necklaces, handwritten letters… all the items blurred into a jumbled spot of light before my eyes. I closed my eyes, steadying myself by gripping the cabinet. I wouldn’t look at the display cabinet anymore. I casually threw a few clothes into my suitcase. Then I took off the ring on my hand. I pushed open the window and tossed it out. A tiny glint of silver arced through the air, disappearing into the artificial lake. 3. I dragged my suitcase downstairs. The noisy living room fell silent for a moment. Among his friends, someone’s expression subtly changed. “William, maybe you should try to soothe her? She’s… Miss Miller, after all.” Adrian Brooks remarked. “Yeah, back on the yacht, Mr. Davies just offered her one extra drink, and she threw him and the glass overboard.” William released his arm from Elara’s waist and stood up, walking toward me. He gently and meticulously buttoned my coat. He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head, avoiding him. He wasn’t annoyed, just smiled faintly. “Come back soon after you’ve had your tantrum.” “Elara loves your carp soup.” So it was Elara who drank it. I couldn’t help but recall the feeling of bringing back the empty lunchbox that day. It was a long-lost joy. I hummed a tune, learning how to make other fish soups that very night. The air suddenly felt sucked dry. I had to stop, taking two deep breaths. “I won’t be coming back.” “What?” “I said, I won’t be coming back.” He let out a small, amused shake of his head, not taking my words seriously. “For our fifth anniversary, I was going to take you whale watching in Iceland. It’s the first item on your wish list, you know.” “Don’t be late, Miss Miller.” The outdated title felt like a thorn, gently pricking my heart. But it quickly vanished without a trace. I said nothing, turning to leave. The person who had spoken earlier admired, “William, you truly are something. To break Sophia Miller down like this.” William pulled Elara onto his lap, his smile cold. “There’s no ‘Miss Miller’ now, only Mrs. Max.” “Without me, she wouldn’t last three days.” Laughter and playful sounds spilled out from the not-quite-closed front door. Elara’s giddy giggles were especially distinct. I tightened my grip on the suitcase handle and quickened my pace. 4. Just as I settled into the hotel, my phone rang. A video call from Dorian. I hesitated for two seconds, then swiped to answer. The man was tall and slender, his black shirt buttoned all the way to the top. His handsome eyes held an anxious glint. “How are you feeling now?” I stood barefoot on the soft carpet. A lush green mountain view stretched outside the floor-to-ceiling window. The air was filled with a fresh, bitter orange scent. I let myself sink into the soft, beige sofa. A long-lost sense of relaxation and safety. “Not bad.” He visibly relaxed. “The doctor’s already booked. I’ll pick you up in France tomorrow.” “Mm.” “Can you be alone tonight? I’ve arranged for a companion.” “Yes, I can.” He didn’t hang up, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Dorian?” “Hm?” “You need to board. The announcement is calling.” “Right… see you tomorrow, then.” “Mm, see you tomorrow.” Thinking about seeing him tomorrow, I felt a little uneasy. 5. Dorian was my fan. Many years ago, when I first started learning to paint. I opened a private account on social media. Posting daily exercises and musings. He was my thousandth follower. All these years, I always thought he was a girl. A pink dinosaur avatar, gentle and polite comments, a simple username – Dorian. After I got married, my update frequency decreased, and my likes and comments became fewer. But he was always among the first to respond. I added him as a friend and drew some pieces for him without charge. Three years ago, I completely stopped painting. Occasionally, I used that account to vent my emotions. My follower count dropped to double digits. He was still there. Later, I rarely logged into the account. He started sending me frequent messages. The impossibly blue sky of France. A small cat fighting by the roadside. Texts, videos. We became good friends. Not long ago, Luna passed away. I was in a daze for a long time. It wasn’t until he called that I noticed the 99+ messages. “What’s been happening lately?” A pleasant male voice came through. That’s when I realized he was a man. William never allowed me to interact with other men. But that day, I was too sad. I talked for a very long time. About Luna’s passing, my failing marriage, the paintbrush I’d abandoned. The uncontainable pain poured out like a floodgate. Afterward, I regretted it. Even though he absorbed all my emotions. I hung up the phone, but he sent messages even more patiently. No questions, just beautiful scenery and a single phrase: “Want to come see it?” Later, he video called, looking at me and saying: “Sophia, you’re sick.” I froze. I had insomnia, aches all over my body, and occasionally couldn’t hear sounds. But William said I was just overthinking. Dorian asked me to promise him two things. Always put myself first. Always consider him a friend I could rely on. When I said I wanted to leave but had nowhere to go. He asked, “Can’t you just come to me?” I said, “Okay.” 6. I felt a little disoriented when I arrived at the airport. Years ago, my father, from his sickbed, entrusted both me and the company to William Max. I thought I would never leave. “What’s wrong?” Dorian tilted his head, asking. “Nothing.” He nodded slightly, and the bodyguards at his side naturally gathered closer. He looked cool and distant when speaking to others. But he was exceptionally patient with me. Just then, two familiar figures entered my sight. William Max, with his arm around Elara Green, looking intimate. He suddenly turned his head. Without thinking, I turned and hid myself in Dorian’s arms. He paused, then gently patted my back. “It’s alright.” I clutched his sleeve until we boarded the plane. 7. William Max felt restless. It wasn’t until Elara’s sweet voice reached him that he barely snapped back to reality. Wasn’t Dorian Sterling always in France? Though things had ended messily back then. But for all these years, their two companies had coexisted peacefully. When had he gotten married? He couldn’t help but think of Sophia Miller. All these years, Dorian Sterling had only been rumored with her. Immediately, he dismissed that ridiculous idea. She had never met Dorian Sterling. Besides, three years ago, he forbade them from contacting each other. He still felt a little uneasy. He took out his phone and cut off all of Sophia Miller’s cards. Watching the successful operation prompt, The irritation in his heart finally subsided. After they married, he restricted her social life. Three years ago, he even made her put down her paintbrush. Her every need – food, clothing, shelter – was in his hands. Without him, where could she go? He had intended to let her throw a fit for a few more days this time. But now he changed his mind. He’d indulged her too much, making her wild. When Elara’s child was born, there would be even more trouble. “William, if you’re not taking me to Iceland, you’ll have to make it up to me these next few days.” Elara leaned closer. “Alright.” He replied casually, already calculating when Sophia Miller would give in. 8. The sunlight in France was dazzling, the sea a brilliant blue. The house faced the ocean, and the floor-to-ceiling windows framed the seascape like a beautiful painting. Dorian was very busy, always on video calls, his low voice a constant backdrop. When I woke up startled in the night, the light from the living room under the door crack gave me a sense of peace. I can’t recall how many days had passed when I found myself standing on the porch. Barefoot on the wooden floor, it was a little cool. Before I knew it, I was squatting on the beach. Clutching a handful of sand. Two children were building sandcastles beside me. Dorian found me, wiping away grains of sand from my face with the back of his hand. “Tomorrow, do you want to meet a friend?” He asked, “Just to talk. I’ll be in the next room with you.” I nodded. The room was cream-colored. The lady had a gentle smile and gestured to the sofa opposite her. “You can choose any position you find comfortable, or we can just sit here for a while.” I hugged a throw pillow, curled up in the corner of the sofa closest to the door. Most of the time, I remained silent. I shared fragments, broken, chaotic, and painful memories. She didn’t say, “I understand.” Nor did she say, “You’ll be alright.” She said, “That sounds like a very difficult time.” William would only say: “You’re just overthinking.” “Company matters are stressful enough; don’t add to the trouble.” “You should learn from Elara.” The session wasn’t long. As it ended, she said softly, “If you’re willing, same time next week, I’ll be here.” I felt a little tired as I stepped outside. “How do you feel?” Dorian waited at the door. “She said… ‘that sounds difficult.’” I repeated. He looked at me, nodding gently. “Mm. Let’s go home.” 9. It was the tenth day since Sophia Miller left. William Max was genuinely furious this time. Ten days, not a single text or call. Excellent. She’d really grown audacious. He was seething with rage, smashing a wine glass. “William…” Elara looked over cautiously. “Book tickets, we’re going back.” “Whatever you say, William.” The woman’s obedience temporarily soothed him. Followed by an even deeper anger. Why wouldn’t she ever learn her lesson? He must have been too lenient. When she came back, she’d be grounded for at least three months. Back at the familiar villa. William finally calmed down to think. Her cards were cut off, and mutual friends had all been warned. Where could she go? That best friend, the divorce lawyer? Or those artist friends? He had made her cut ties with all of them long ago. Who else could she rely on besides him? He walked into her room. Nothing was missing from the display cabinet. He picked up the notebook in the center. Opened it, and saw familiar handwriting. He remembered how she used to be a somewhat famous painter. And he, a part-time model. He was drawn to her bright, confident smile. To strike up a conversation with her. He even changed the music he listened to on the subway to dull art history lectures. When she found this notebook, her eyes curved into a smile. His gaze shifted to the carefully framed art exhibition ticket. To get that ticket, which wasn’t for public sale. He went to be a punching bag for others. When the girl, her eyes full of concern, applied medicine to his wounds. He felt it was all worth it for a lifetime. William’s anger suddenly dissipated significantly. If she wouldn’t back down, then he would make the first move. They were going to spend their lives together, after all, so he’d coax her back first. He found the number saved as ‘Wife’ and dialed. A cold, mechanical voice came through the receiver: “The number you have dialed is currently switched off.” 10. Today was my fourth meeting with the lady. But it was different. She led me into a children’s art studio, said “feel free,” and then closed the door. The children in the room looked up at me, then went back to their drawings. I sat in a corner. A little girl with a topknot brought over a drawing board and pencils. Seeing me not take them, she gently placed them beside me. The sunlight was orange-yellow, and the sea of flowers she drew was crimson. The little girl was running in the painting. “That’s really good.” I heard myself say. The little girl shyly pressed her lips together and smiled, pushing the drawing board towards me. The room was very quiet. I don’t know how much time passed, but I picked up the pencil. … I brought the drawing home. Dorian’s eyes lit up when he saw the painting. “Sophia,” he stopped in front of me, “can I hug you?” I nodded. He gently embraced me. I buried my face in his chest, my arms slowly tightening. A very solid, very warm hug. With my permission, he took down the famous painting from the wall and replaced it with mine. “Is it suitable here?” I asked, clutching the hem of my skirt. The cartoonish, childlike drawing seemed out of place in the entire space. He stepped back two paces, looked for a long time, and then, with a serious expression, said: “It’s perfect. I love it.” 11. I went to that children’s art studio more and more frequently. The children here were very quiet. Some children liked to paint with their eyes closed. Some children liked to paint with both hands. The teachers were all very patient, speaking in soft whispers. Here, no one was better at painting than anyone else. Every painting was precious and unique. Just like every child. I walked home light-footed. Watching Dorian skillfully hang my new painting on the wall. My heart suddenly softened. “Can you be my model again?” He froze, his eyes bright, and answered quickly. “Yes.” The art studio had beautiful sunlight, and the paints were all new. This was a place he had shown me on the very first day. But I only walked in today. Dorian didn’t seem to have much experience as a model. His body was a little stiff, letting me arrange him. The sunlight gilded the side of his face. I painted very slowly. When I finished, he leaned in to look, for a long time. “Can I keep this one?” “It was always yours.” He curved his lips and left for his meeting. I sat in the studio, my mood complicated. My friends would be happy for me, knowing I’d picked up my paintbrush again, wouldn’t they? I logged into my social media, and messages flooded in. At the top was a message from my best friend. “Sophia, where have you been? William Max has been looking for you like crazy.” 12. I held my phone, hesitating for a long moment. “I’m fine, in France.” The reply was instantaneous. “As long as you’re okay.” “That Max guy was like a mad dog a while back, harassing all of us.” “Don’t get me wrong, even if I knew where you were, I wouldn’t tell him a single word.” It felt like sucking on an orange candy, tart and sweet, finally leaving a pleasant taste. We hadn’t been in touch much these past two years. But I knew she always cared about me. As I was scrolling through other messages, a call came in. It was Adrian Brooks. Even though William Max had given a warning, he had still secretly paid for Luna’s funeral expenses. His family and mine were old family friends, growing up together. Before the marriage, he disliked William and advised me to break up. After the marriage, William became “Mr. Max,” and Adrian called him “William” affectionately. When William and I argued, Adrian always tried to make us reconcile. Hesitating for a moment, I pressed answer. Adrian’s voice was urgent and noisy: “Sophia! Where did you run off to?!” “This time the fuss is too big, William is really mad, says he wants a divorce!” “We’ve all tried to persuade him countless times, even drank ourselves into the hospital! William said, come back before the fifth anniversary, and we can still talk!” “Hello? Do you hear me?” I didn’t answer. The paint on the canvas hadn’t dried yet. I reached out, my fingertip dipping into the golden yellow of the sun. “I hear you.” “Please tell him I wanted a divorce a long time ago.” Before he could reply. I hung up, then blacklisted him. The person in the painting seemed to be smiling.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “582319”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply