I felt a pang of shock but quickly steeled myself.
Ryan’s situation had clearly spiraled into something far worse, and I could only imagine what he’d gone through these past days.
Still, it wasn’t my responsibility to fix it. I’d made my peace with letting go.
After a brief silence, I looked at her evenly. “I can’t save him, Clara. You’ll have to figure this out on your own.”
“No!” Clara cried, her voice thick with panic. “Please, Sophia! You don’t understand! They’ll hurt him, and you wouldn’t want to see him return with a missing arm or worse, would you?”
A bitter smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Actually,” I replied calmly, “I kind of would.”
Clara’s face contorted with horror, her eyes wide with disbelief. She looked at me as though seeing a stranger, utterly shocked that I would say something so callous.
Once, the old Sophia might have panicked at the very thought of Ryan being in trouble, but not anymore.
I wasn’t the same person who would blindly rush to his aid without a second thought.
As the driver maneuvered past her, I ignored Clara’s frantic shouts echoing behind us, turning away as we entered the villa’s grounds.
A week later, I spotted Ryan at school. He looked worse for wear, his face bruised with small cuts scattered along his arms, a testament to whatever he had endured.
I couldn’t help the slight twinge of sympathy that stirred within me, though I pushed it aside. He walked over, pausing by my table, his eyes fixed on me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
“Thank you, Sophia,” he said quietly.
I raised an eyebrow, taken aback. “Thank you? For what, exactly?”
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