You Don’t Get To Ask About Him
Cedric and Natasha exited the sanctuary, leaving behind a storm of speculation and disbelief. The sunlight outside was harsh, blinding almost, but Cedric didn’t falter. He didn’t look back.
This was his moment— his father’s legacy was now his to claim, and no one would stand in his way.
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Sophia remained seated among the solemn crowd, her eyes glazed with frustration and disbelief as the whispers around her grew louder. She could still see them in her mind— Cedric and Natasha, arm in arm, boldly leaving the cathedral in the middle of the service. A fresh wave of anger swept over her. How dare he? she thought, her knuckles tightening around the handkerchief in her lap.
“What the fuck?” she muttered under her breath, careful not to draw attention to herself. Her gaze darted toward the grand entrance of the cathedral where Cedric and Natasha had disappeared, leaving the mourners in stunned silence. Around her, people exchanged looks of shock and curiosity. A few shook their heads in disapproval, while others whispered behind their hands.
The priest, unfazed, continued delivering the final rites, his voice resonating through the high arches of St. Atdent’s Sanctuary. Yet, Sophia barely heard him. Her thoughts were consumed with Cedric’s audacity. Even at his own father’s funeral, he had managed to make it about himself, using the occasion to make an announcement that had left everyone reeling. A fresh graduate declaring himself the new head of Ivry Hall College? She wanted to scream.
Michael squirmed in her arms, his tiny hands tugging at the lace veil that partially covered her face. The soft pull brought her back to the moment. She adjusted him against her hip and sighed, deciding it was best to leave the sanctuary as soon as the service concluded. The air felt suffocating, and she needed space to collect her thoughts.
After another fifteen minutes, the ceremony drew to a close. The pallbearers carefully lifted Peter Hall’s golden casket, carrying it down the aisle toward the waiting hearse. Sophia rose to her feet, clutching Michael firmly. The crowd began to disperse, some heading outside to witness the final journey to the gravesite, while others lingered, caught in small clusters of murmured conversation.
Sophia weaved her way through the throng, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Her face remained stoic, but her chest tightened with a mix of emotions— anger, sadness, and humiliation. As she reached the grand entrance, a loud, familiar voice cut through the noise, freezing her in her tracks.
“Sophia!!!”
The voice carried a note of forced cheerfulness that made her stomach churn. She turned slowly, already knowing who it was. Her heart sank as she spotted Mary, her former roommate, weaving through the crowd with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Mary’s dark curls framed her face perfectly, and her black dress hugged her figure in a way that screamed calculated effort rather than mourning. She stopped a few feet from Sophia, her head tilting slightly. “Or should I say, Mrs. Hall?” she added with a saccharine smile, her eyes briefly darting to Michael.
“What do you want?” Sophia’s voice was plain, her expression unreadable. She tightened her grip on Michael, the weight of him grounding her as she faced the woman she never thought she’d see again.
Mary’s smile widened as if she hadn’t noticed Sophia’s cold tone. “Is it wrong for an old friend to say hello?” she asked, her voice smooth, almost condescending.
Sophia narrowed her eyes. “Old friends?” Her tone was sharp, cutting through Mary’s pretense. “Friends don’t treat each other the way you did. Now, what do you want, Mary?”
Mary raised her hands in mock surrender, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. “Alright, fair enough. I suppose I deserve that. But I’m not here to stir up the past, Sophia. I just…” She hesitated, her gaze softening as if she were trying to appear genuine. “I want us to be friends again.”
Sophia blinked, momentarily stunned. “Friends?” She let out a bitter laugh. “There’s no world where I’d be stupid enough to let you back into my life. Not after how you've treated me.”
Mary took a cautious step closer, lowering her voice. “I know I made mistakes, Sophia. I hurt you. I hurt us. And I’ve regretted it every single day since.” She reached out, gently placing a hand on Sophia’s arm. “Please. I’m not asking for much— just a chance to make amends.”
Sophia flinched at the touch, her breath hitching. Her mind raced with memories of their shared past, of trust broken and wounds that had never fully healed. She swallowed hard, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “We’re way past forgiveness, Mary.”
Mary’s expression faltered for a moment, but she quickly composed herself. Her voice softened, almost pleading. “Sophia, please… I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed. I just—I need you to know that I’m truly sorry.”
Sophia’s eyes stung as she held back tears. She shifted Michael slightly, using him as a barrier between herself and Mary. “I don’t have time for this,” she muttered, turning to leave.
“Wait,” Mary called out, her voice breaking. “I don’t even know his name.” Her gaze flickered to Michael, who stared back with wide, curious eyes. “Please, Sophia. Just his name.”
Sophia froze, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain her emotions. She turned back slowly, her eyes meeting Mary’s. “You don’t get to ask about him,” she said, her voice firm but trembling. “Not after everything.”
Mary’s lips parted as if to protest, but she stopped herself. Instead, she nodded slowly, stepping back. “I understand,” she said quietly, her voice laced with something that sounded like defeat. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry for your loss.”
Sophia’s lips pressed into a thin line as she nodded curtly. “Thank you,” she said, her tone clipped. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, her steps purposeful and unyielding.