The Indifferent Ex-Husband Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate



His icy glare was freaking her out, her hand caught in mid-air, forgetting to struggle.

With a sharp tug on her wrist, Brandon pulled her stumbling towards him, then steadied her just before she could crash into his embrace. He looked deep into her eyes, "Sophia?"

His voice was hoarse, tinged with uncertainty.

"Yeah, it's me," Sophia replied softly.

Brandon's gaze paused, then delved into her eyes again, "Why did you come?"

His question came in a low rasp, his voice rough from alcohol, his eyes foggy yet lucid.

Sophia couldn't tell if he was drunk or sober.noveldrama

"The waiter called my cell," Sophia explained quietly, "Even if it had been a stranger, I'd have called the cops to avoid any trouble."

"Why didn't you just tell them to call the police?" Brandon pressed.

Sophia was stumped.

Seeing him unresponsive at the dinner table, she hadn't thought to ask them to call the police. She had just instinctively wanted to check on the situation.

"Sophia," Brandon's gaze was steady and serious, "I'm about to give up on you. Don't get my hopes up."

"Okay," she whispered back, "I've already notified Kent. He should be here soon."

After saying this, she tried to pull her wrist away, attempting to stand, but to no avail.

Brandon was staring at her coldly, his grip on her wrist even tighter.

Sophia didn't argue, simply asked in a soft voice, "Brandon, are you drunk?"

"Drunk," he admitted, then suddenly let go of her hand, "You should go." "Okay."

Sophia nodded lightly and turned to leave.

Behind her, a dull thud of a body hitting the table followed by the clatter of bottles being knocked over indicated it wasn't a light fall. Sophia looked back instinctively.

Brandon was struggling to stand up, using the table for support, brows furrowed, clearly heavily intoxicated, his body not cooperating. His drunkenness was manifesting physically, not mentally.

Sophia's hand twitched at her side, wanting to help him, yet she hesitated.

"Are you okay?" she couldn't help but ask, concerned.

Brandon waved her off dismissively.

Rubbing his temples with one hand, he forced himself to stand and headed towards the door.

His steps were unsteady, and the strong smell of alcohol wafted over her as he got up.

Brandon, too, seemed put off by the smell, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

Sophia stood still, watching him approach with shaky steps, and just as he was about to pass by, Brandon stopped. "Sophia," he spoke softly beside her, "this is the first time in my life I've ever drank to drown my sorrows."

"What's it feel like to drink like that?"

After a while, Sophia heard her own raspy voice fill the small private room.

"It feels just as bad as being sober," Brandon replied, "I probably won't do something this dumb again in my life."

"That's good," Sophia murmured, "Alcohol's not exactly a friend."

"Yeah," Brandon agreed lightly, "You all been trying to set me up with Marian, huh?"

Sophia didn't respond.

Neither did Brandon.

He moved towards the door, his body still stumbling slightly, looking like he might fall at any moment. Sophia instinctively reached out to steady him.

Brandon brushed her hand away from his arm, not looking at her, and staggered towards the door.

Kent, who had just arrived in a hurry, witnessed this scene.

He paused, instinctively looking towards Sophia.

Sophia's head was lowered, her lips slightly pursed, not looking at Brandon.

Brandon's handsome face remained expressionless.

"Mr. Crawley," Kent hesitantly called out to Brandon, then turned to Sophia with concern.

Brandon glanced at him.

"Take Ms. Yearwood home."

With those words, he tossed his car keys to Kent, the action not as sharp as usual.

Kent caught them, nodded hesitantly, "I'll call you a ride."

Brandon didn't reply, already walking out.