When Love Wilts and Blooms Again

My father looked pleased with how understanding I was, while my stepmother wore a satisfied smile.

After they left, Sophia stayed behind.

"Roxanne, let me help you pack," she said sweetly, standing in front of me with an obedient demeanor. Yet, as her gaze swept around the room, a hint of undisguised triumph flickered in her eyes.

"I didn’t think Dad would actually agree to us switching rooms," she added. "Roxanne, are you mad at me?"

She paused for effect, then continued with a sly smile. "After all, I just took Nathan, and now I’ve taken the room you’ve lived in for ten years."

I didn’t respond. Turning away, I went to grab my suitcase.

Suddenly, Sophia let out a dramatic "Ouch!" and collapsed onto the floor, clutching her arm.

"Roxanne..." she whimpered.

Her arm had struck the corner of the desk, leaving a dark bruise spreading across her pale skin.

"Roxanne, what are you doing?"

Nathan Foster had appeared at some point, now standing at the doorway. He stepped inside with a stern expression, just in time to see Sophia on the floor.

He rushed over with a frown and carefully scooped her into his arms.

"I’m fine, Nathan," Sophia said tearfully, forcing a fragile smile even as her tears kept falling. "Roxanne didn’t mean to do it."

"You’re already bruised, and you still say it doesn’t hurt," Nathan said, his gaze fixed on the dark mark marring her arm. His eyes were filled with worry.

But when Nathan turned to look at me, his gaze turned icy cold, like frost sweeping through the room.

"Roxanne Evans, if you’ve got an issue, take it out on me," he snapped, his voice sharp and cold. "Leave Sophia alone. She’s been through enough already."

"Unlike you," he continued, his words dripping with disdain, "born into wealth and privilege, never knowing a day of hardship."

I thought my emotions wouldn’t be swayed by him anymore. I thought I’d never shed another tear for Nathan.

But in the end, I was just an ordinary girl. I wasn’t made of steel, and my heart wasn’t unbreakable.

This was the boy I grew up with, my childhood friend. The man I’d been in love with for three years.

And in just a few days, he’d fallen for someone younger, someone gentler, and now he looked at me like I was some venomous monster.

I didn’t want to cry. I even wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But the ache in my chest spread to my tear glands, and they burned with the threat of tears.

"Nathan Foster," I said, my voice steady but strained, "we’ve known each other for so many years. Do you really not know the kind of person I am?"

Nathan frowned slightly, his expression shifting. His gaze lingered on my face, and for a moment, something in his cold demeanor seemed to soften.