NovelEnglishAlthough Hannah looked pale, she still stood tall and straight, her posture impeccable, her figure graceful. There was something
about her—a quality Sophia recognized from Patricia as well. No matter how disheveled or cornered they might be, both women
had a way of carrying themselves like swans: so poised, so elegant, with a hint of haughtiness that felt just out of reach.
Sophia recalled that Brandon never seemed particularly fond of Patricia—at least, not since she'd returned. And suddenly, she
understood why Hannah had never managed to win Brandon over after all these years. Hannah and Patricia were cut from the
scloth.
Hannah seemed to sense Sophia's gaze. Even in her distress, she looked down at Sophia with that sloftyposure, but, for
once, didn’t approach or interrupt. After meeting Sophia's eyes for a fleeting moment, Hannah turned away, her face unreadable,
and melted into the crowd.
There'd been a purpose behind telling Sophia about the divorce; Hannah had done it deliberately. She wanted to see if Sophia was
truly herself. But Sophia’s subtle, almost effortless retort—sharp as a knife in a velvet glove—was something only the real Sophia
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtcould manage. That look in her eyes, that measured tone... it was unmistakable.
Hannah couldn't help but wonder if the whole amnesia story was just a convenient lie—an excuse for Sophia to save face and
perhaps rekindle things with Brandon. From all the times Patricia hadplained to her parents, Hannah knew just how tense
things had been between Sophia and the Crawley family before the accident. If Sophia hadn't truly lost her memory, she'd
probably find it unbearable to even face Brandon's parents.
As Hannah's figure disappeared into the throng, Sophia slowly pulled her gaze back and, almost unconsciously, glanced toward the
main entrance.
Brandon was still surrounded by guests, exchanging polite small talk. His tall silhouette was outlined in the shifting light, every
gesture radiating an effortless authority and a cool detachment. Yet there was also an ease about him, a kind of relaxed
confidence. Whether it was his striking features or the way he spoke, he stood out in any crowd.
Sophia could understand why Hannah was so fixated on him. Brandon was maic—the kind of man women fell for, sometimes
against their better judgment.
She remembered passing through thepany cafeteria a few days ago and catching a flash of memory: a young woman, bold
and blushing, had looked up at Brandon and declared, “Brandon, | like you.” Even a confession like that, when directed at him,
becsomething breathtaking.
“Did Brandon not tell you? You two are already divorced,” Hannah's words echoed in Sophia's mind, and her eyes involuntarily
drifted back to Brandon.
As if Sensing er attention,
)
Brandon—wk d been half-turned,
. . “ou
steno a. guest—suddenly ¢,
. . oS
looked straight at her. Their eyes™
met, and Sophia saw his brow &nit
~\
together for a moment. He O
mired semethingapaloggts to
he’ guesiBeckoneg Kentipyer, ther,
parted the crowd and made his way
toward her.
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