Chapter 126
James's POV:
I felt terrible inside, didn't know who to talk to, incredibly miserable.
I went to a bar alone, sat in a private booth, and drank one glass after another.
I felt like the more I drank, the more sober I became.
After who knows how many drinks, I finally got drunk.
I took out my phone and called Sophia.
"Sophia, I'm drunk," I said quietly. "Come pick me up."
The call was hung up. I stubbornly called again, but this time it wouldn't go through.
Holding my phone, I laughed a few times and kept drinking.
Later, the bar manager was worried something might happen to me. He came in and asked if I wanted to call my family or my assistant.
I told them to call Sophia.
Sophia answered.
"Is this Mrs. Smith? Mr. Smith is drunk. Can you come to Sunny Bar to pick him up?"
I heard Sophia refuse and immediately shouted, "Sophia, if you don't come pick me up today, I'll just keep drinking here."
"Mrs. Smith, Mr. Smith has already had a lot to drink. If he keeps going, there might be serious problems."
"No matter what issues you two have, you can't just watch him drink himself to death."
Sophia's POV:
The bar manager hung up after saying that, not giving me any chance to respond.
I stared at my phone and cursed: "What kind of person is this? We're already divorced, and you're still bothering your ex-wife when you're drunk. No humanity at all."
Being woken up in the middle of the night like this - if I hadn't napped during the day, I would've cursed him out all night.
I tossed my phone aside and lay back down, not wanting to go to the bar to pick up James.
But my phone kept ringing. I wanted to turn it off, but then I remembered what James said - as long as I didn't pick him up, he'd keep drinking.
What if he really drank himself to death?
Indigo had just woken up. What if he got upset and passed out again?
Forget it. I'll just consider this something I owed him in my past life, and I'm paying him back in this one.
I grabbed my clothes, getting dressed as I walked, and ordered a ride on my phone.
When I arrived at Sunny Bar, as soon as I said I was there to pick up James, the front desk immediately had someone show me the way.
"Mrs. Smith, you're finally here. If you hadn't come, Mr. Smith really would have drunk himself to death." The bar manager stood next to James, looking like he was about to cry.
Well, yeah. James was an important person - if he really died drinking in their bar, could they even stay in business?
I looked at James: "James, can you come home with me now?"
Hearing my voice, James turned his head. His face was flushed red from drinking, his eyes unfocused. He stood up: "Sophia, you came to get me?"
He stumbled toward me and hugged me. The smell of alcohol on him made me want to throw up.
I held back the nausea and apologized to the hotel manager: "I'm sorry for the trouble."
"No trouble at all, Mrs. Smith. Should we help you get Mr. Smith to the car?"
Of course, I wanted help - otherwise I had no idea how I'd get James into the car.
Getting in the car was easy. Getting out was hard.
When we arrived at the Smith Mansion, I had no idea how to get James back inside.
"James, wake up. We're at the Smith Mansion. Get out of the car." I patted his face.
James opened his eyes: "I don't want to go back to the Smith Mansion."
"If not the Smith Mansion, then where?"
"I want to go home with you." After saying that, he closed his eyes and slumped onto my shoulder.
I held back my frustration, telling myself not to argue with a drunk person.
No choice - since he wouldn't get out, I could only take him back to my own place.
A strange thing was, this time when I called him, he got out of the car right away. I supported him as we walked slowly. He walked quite steadily, not at all like someone drunk.
But he was still a guy over six feet tall - very heavy.
I used all my strength to drag James into the elevator and through my front door.
As soon as I put him on the sofa, he struggled to get up and rushed into the bathroom. I could hear him throwing up.
I leaned against the bathroom doorframe, watching him hunched over the toilet in such a pathetic state, feeling something indescribable.
After he finished throwing up, he seemed a bit more sober. He lifted his head and saw me in the doorway through the mirror, his eyes confused.
"Sophia?" His voice was hoarse. "I... how did I get here?"
"You kept having the bar manager call me, asking me to pick you up." I turned to get a glass of warm water from the living room and grabbed a clean towel. Walking back to the bathroom, I handed him the water and towel. "Rinse your mouth, wipe your face."
He took them in a daze, slowly rinsing his mouth, then wiping his face with the wet towel.
The cold water seemed to sober him up more. He pushed himself up using the sink, turned around, leaned back against the counter, and looked at me with complicated eyes: "You brought me to your place?"
"What else? I tried to drop you off at the Smith Mansion, but you refused to get out of the car. I couldn't keep the taxi driver waiting forever, so I could only bring you here." My tone was flat, emotionless.
He lowered his head: "I'm sorry for the trouble."
"Now that you know you've troubled me, don't do this kind of thing again." I turned to leave. "I don't have a spare room. You'll have to sleep on the sofa. Leave on your own when you wake up tomorrow morning."
"Sophia!" He called out behind me.
I stopped but didn't turn around.
"The baby in your belly... it's really not mine?" he asked, his voice carrying a last trace of faint hope.
I closed my eyes and hardened my heart: "No."
There was a long silence behind me, then I heard him laugh very softly, that laugh full of self-mockery and despair.
"Okay, I understand."
I didn't say anything more, just walked straight back to my bedroom and closed the door.
With my back against the cold door, I slowly slid down to the floor, hugged my knees, and buried my face in them.
I lay in my bedroom, barely sleeping all night, my ears unconsciously listening for sounds from outside.
James was very quiet, not making any noise.
He must have been really drunk and sleeping deeply.
Near dawn, I finally dozed off in a daze.
But I slept restlessly, with strange and chaotic dreams.
One moment, James was coldly saying he wanted to abort my baby, the next Amelia was showing off her child to me, then Indigo was in trouble, and the Smith family was preparing a funeral...
I woke up with a start. Outside the window, it was already bright.
I picked up my phone and looked - 7:30 in the morning.
Right on cue, my stomach growled, accompanied by that familiar nauseous feeling.
I quickly got up and leaned over the sink, dry heaving for a while. With nothing to eat, nothing came up. I opened the door, planning to find something to eat from the fridge in the living room.
The living room was quiet. The blanket on the sofa was neatly folded and placed to the side. James was nowhere to be seen.
He left?
That's good.
I breathed a sigh of relief, yet felt a certain emptiness somewhere in my heart.
I shook my head, chasing away this inexplicable emotion, walked to the kitchen, took out some crackers from the cabinet, and forced myself to eat a few with warm water. The nausea finally subsided a bit.
I heard light footsteps behind me. My body stiffened, and I turned around.