Sophie’s Abused

At this time, Sophie’s curiosity was like that, leading the cat to uncharted territories. Even though they had both been seated for hours and the coffee that was served to them had become cold, they both sat on the bed, the evening slowly creeping in on them.

Rhys, who had decided to give them enough space, knocked lightly on the ebony oak doors of Veronica’s room; it was unlocked, and he let himself in, seeing both of them woven together with the invisible strings of long-lost love and twenty-four years of longing.

He wanted to go prepare dinner, and he wanted to ask Sophie if she would follow him to the central market to get things for dinner.

“Hey Veronica, hi Sophie,” he waved from outside the door. “I’m going to the market to get supplies and groceries for dinner. Do you want to tag along?”

“No, not now. Can you say a little bit more?” she pleaded.

Rhys acknowledged and went outside, knowing fully well that if he didn’t go now, there would be no one at the market if he waite