CHAPTER 37: CHAPTER 37: EASIER TO PLEASE THAN A NEW YEAR’S PIG

After saying goodbye to Wyatt Nash, Sophia Lowell slipped around to the back entrance of the venue.

Coincidentally, Tim Sawyer passed by behind her, saw her, but didn’t see him, so he curiously stole a couple more glances.

"Sophia."

A youthful and deeply magnetic voice appeared behind Sophia.

Sophia slowed her steps and looked back.

There was a tall, lean man leaning against the big pillar, dressed in a white tracksuit with a black wool coat thrown over the top. He looked a bit older than a college student, gentle and steady.

"Faye Ellison, big bro!" Her face instantly lit up with joy as she walked over, "What are you doing here?"

The man patted her head and smiled, lips lifting: "Why are you still so cute!"

This moment was captured by Tim Sawyer, who snapped a photo.

"Didn’t you say you were waiting at home for me? Why did you come out?" Sophia looked up at him. "And when did you get so tall?"

Estimating, Faye was probably around 190cm, pretty much the same height as Zane Sterling.

"My mom said you were heading to my place, and Hugh Irving said you were here, so I came over."

The corners of his mouth curved in a rare gentle smile—beautiful and warm.

"Did you drive?" Sophia asked.

"Yeah, come on, get in. Let’s head out first." Faye stretched out, resting his pale big hand on her shoulder, heading toward the white car ahead.

"Men and women shouldn’t be touchy-feely! Have some self-respect, Faye." Sophia laughed as she jokingly but seriously pushed his hand off.

"Too much now, huh? All grown up, big bro can’t even touch anymore." He patted her head.

Sophia touched her head, too scared to speak, and hurried to message the group chat.

[Don’t tell Faye Ellison I got married.]

[Got it, Sophia-the-turtle~] — Hugh Irving

[Why not? Isn’t it a good thing?] — Cheryl Shaw

[The fewer people know, the better. It’s not the right time yet.] — Sophia

Other than these three girlfriends and their close family, no one else knew about her flash marriage.

Faye Ellison was a high-profile haute couture designer in the country—a ton of women around him.

He was here today for The S Republic Fashion Week show. His mom was Sophia’s teacher, and they’d always been close at school.

——

[Zane Sterling, looks like your wifey ran off to play. [Pictures]+5]

Tim Sawyer sent Zane several photos: a hug, a head pat, opening the passenger door, the license plate...

Zane, at the hotel, curled his lips and touched his nose as he opened the photos—his lips pursed into a straight line, brows tightly gathered.

Zooming in, she looked dazzling, smile wickedly carefree, truly happy. The guy’s eyes were full of affection—he only saw her.

However, in the head-patting photo, you could see Sophia was doing her best to dodge.

Zane knew exactly why Tim was sending him the pics and didn’t reply.

He opened [Wife]’s WhatsApp—she’d messaged him a few minutes ago: Going to a friend’s place for lunch with Hugh and the girls, don’t wait for me at noon, I’ll be back tonight.

Zane rubbed his forehead, put his files aside, and called her.

Sophia in the car jumped—[Husband] was too eye-catching; she was terrified Faye would see, couldn’t hang up, so she picked up immediately.

[Wife.]

[...] She swallowed nervously. What kind of pill did Zane take today, calling her wife...?

[Wife.] Seeing she didn’t reply, Zane repeated.

His voice was so velvety—her ears could get pregnant. If he wasn’t a CEO, he’d make bank as a voice actor.

Sophia glanced over at Faye in the driver’s seat, praying he hadn’t heard anything.

[What’s up?] she stammered.

[Miss you.]

Crimson spread over her cheeks in a wave. She covered half her face, [Are you drunk again?]

[No, I’m at home waiting for you.]

[Okay.] She let out a breath, her chest bizarrely tense, like riding a drop tower.

[Love you.] — Zane Sterling.

[...] He’s sick...

Hung up.

Faye, hands on the wheel, turned and looked at her: "What’s wrong, your face is all red."

Sophia touched her cheeks, grinning: "The heat’s blasting."

When they arrived at Faye’s place, Sophia sent Zane her location and snapped a peace-sign photo, making sure her face was out of frame.

Faye’s house was a villa, European style. Right as you walked in, you saw the dried up, frozen fountain.

"Teacher Hale!" Sophia spotted Teacher Hale already coming out to greet her.

"Sophia, you’re here!" Teacher Hale was a bit chubby; even under her coat you could see the bulges.

They shared a big hug.

Faye stood off to the side, hands in pockets, watching—eyes all on Sophia.

After some chatter,

"You said on the phone you wanted to pick some wintersweet. Good timing—the wintersweet in the backyard is looking great! Take plenty, I’m too lazy to sweep anyway." Teacher Hale held Sophia’s hand as they went inside.

"Yeah, it’s rare to come by—wintersweet in the country won’t bloom for a while. Figured you’d have some; thought I could snag a few to take back."

Soon after, Hugh Irving and Kai Jacobs arrived, but Cheryl Shaw was a no-show.

The crew circled up in the living room for hot pot.

They were all Teacher Hale’s star pupils—still kept in touch regularly.

After the meal, Faye offered to help her cut branches, but Sophia refused. She could read it in his gaze, understood his thinking.

"I have to cut these myself." Sophia gripped the scissors tightly.

There was no sun that afternoon, but the sky was a clear blue, gentle snow falling again.

She bundled up, a hat on her head and white gloves gripping scissors, trimming wintersweet in the backyard—taking budding branches rather than fully bloomed ones, about ten or so, wrapping them up in old newspapers afterward.

Teacher Hale, guiding on the side, made her cut an extra ten branches just the same.

Faye watched her from nearby.

She wore a long, pink down coat with goose feathers, and with her hat she looked like a little elf, cheeks rosy from the cold, her breath like a fairy’s mist wrapping around her.

They stayed at Teacher Hale’s until after dinner, reluctant to leave.

Hugh Irving drove Kai Jacobs home.

Sophia, heading the other way, was firmly escorted by Faye; she caved and got in his car.

"I remember you love tulips most." Faye glanced at the wintersweet in her arms.

"People change."

The tulip’s meaning is love and eternity—definitely can’t be gifting that anymore. Last time it already caused misunderstanding. No wonder he was so happy.

Wintersweet means hope, loyalty, purity.

In this bitter winter, she really couldn’t think of anything else appropriate to give.

His suit jackets go for upwards of ten grand—she couldn’t afford one...

So she just picked something free.

At the hotel entrance, Sophia anxiously bid Faye farewell, afraid Zane would spot them.

His possessiveness was off the charts—if he flew off the handle, she seriously had no idea how to calm him down.

As the saying goes, a New Year’s pig is easier to appease than him.

Faye didn’t linger, knowing girls can get uneasy out so late, and drove off.

"Whew—"

Sophia watched his car drive away before she could finally relax.

She weighed the flowers in her arms, satisfied, and headed back into the hotel.

"Wife." Zane Sterling somehow showed up at the hotel door.

His eyes were pitch black, like the depths of the sea, full of stars, full of waves, and as if with one careless move, you could get swallowed up whole.

She paused, chest and stomach rising and falling.

How should she answer—husband? Zane?

"Why did you come down?" Might as well not answer.

"To pick you up." His gaze landed on the newspaper in her arms.