Holding on to You

Chapter One: Brokenhearted

Lying in a flowery maze, I caught sight of Nathan approaching. His presence was entrancing, and I found myself lost in the depths of his eyes. Nathan gazed at me, extending his hand. Blushing, I reached out to meet his touch, but he retreated, fading away like delicate foam. I called out his name, but he vanished, melting into oblivion. The pain of his disappearance echoed through me, and I jolted awake, finding myself back in my bed, Nathan lying next to me, his hand affectionately craddling my head.

“It was just a dream,” I sighed with relief.

Sophia Rayne, that’s who I am. Born into wealth, my life took a dark turn when my father was arrested for fraud and convicted six months later. The news of his suicide in prison shattered my mother, driving her to seek solace in alcohol and drugs. I grew up carrying the weight of low self-esteem, feeling utterly alone and struggling to fit in. I was an outcast, bullied for my shaggy appearance. But thirty years later, my life was transformed. It all began on a fateful day, a day that started roughly but marked the genesis of my luck:

6 AM—the world stirred from its slumber, and so did I. I lazily prepared for another day at the elementary school, where the children hailed from elite families. The sun, a golden orb, hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the city streets. My life had settled into a predictable rhythm: wake up, work, sleep, repeat. But on this particular morning, destiny tiptoed into my existence.

As I stepped out of my cramped apartment, the air felt different —charged with possibility, like a secret whispered by the wind. The familiar path to the subway station stretched before me, my footsteps echoing against the concrete. The station, as always, buzzed with people lost in their own worlds. I caught my reflection in the shaded window, wondering if I appeared attractive or merely ordinary.

And then, my phone jolted me from my musings. Craig’s voice, sweet and familiar, flowed through the receiver. Craig —the man I’d loved for three years. Handsome, wealthy, and a prominent business person in Ibex. His possessiveness and domineering nature were eclipsed by his hard work and generosity. His flaws, those perfect imperfections, held me captive. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

“What are you doing this weekend?” he asked, sweetness lacing his words. My heart fluttered—Craig wanted to spend time with me, alone. He transformed into a sweetheart outside the confines of work. Our plans unfolded: a visit to the Rehab Center to see my mother, followed by a getaway to Dubai for shopping. These moments with Craig felt like paradise, filling the void with care I’d yearned for over the years. But something was amiss. Every time I broached the topic of marriage, Craig’s demeanor would shift. Was he afraid of commitment, or was I merely a passing fancy to him? I questioned myself relentlessly, yet my love for him defied logic.

“Nothing significant,” I replied, my tone deliberately soft and composed, devoid of anticipation.

“We should visit Mum this weekend. I haven’t seen her in a long time,” Craig suggested, his voice warm and cheerful.

“I’d love that. It’s been a while for me too,” I agreed, touched by the thought of him considering my mother.

“I also have a surprise for you after visiting Mum,” Craig chortled merrily, sparking both anxiety and curiosity within me.

“What surprise is that?” I asked. Craig’s laughter danced softly, infecting me with its warmth. “Well, tell me.”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you now, would it?” he teased.

“But, I’m curious.”

“The surprise is worth the wait,” Craig assured me.

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll call you at lunch break,” I informed him. My train had arrived.

“I’ll wait for your call,” Craig replied. I smiled, bidding him farewell before disconnecting. Slipping my phone into my purse, I grabbed my coat and boarded the train, ready to embrace the day. Craig had momentarily erased my complaints about him and the world, and I couldn’t help but smile the whole way to work.

Arriving at Kings, I went straight to my class. The children stood up, welcoming me as soon as I walked in, their smiles and elation as pure as their hearts. Their presence offered solace —a sense of belonging. But as I delved into teaching, a heavy pound on the classroom door disrupted the learning atmosphere. I turned, my curiosity piqued. Then the Deputy Principal, Mrs. Gray entered the room, her expression weary. This struck me as odd. I knew her as a jovial and ever-cheerful woman. Mrs. Gray greeted me and motioned for me to follow her outside the classroom. I complied, my heart racing. Mrs. Gray sighed deeply, her eyes searching mine, as if seeking answers she might or might not find.

“The Principal would like to see you,” she finally revealed.

“For what exactly?” I asked, my anxiety evident. My voice took on a stern edge—I disliked the notion of visiting the principal’s office. Mrs. Gray was well aware of this. Mr. Peterson, our principal, was notorious in the city —a promiscuous man, known for his advances towards female teachers despite being married. And now, it seemed, I was not exempt.

“You have a visitor, Ms. Rayne,” Mrs. Gray’s brow furrowed. “And I’m afraid this visitation isn’t a favorable one.”

Panic surged within me. Who had come to see me, and what had I done to warrant such attention? “We must hurry to the office,” she added. “You know the Principal despises waiting.”

“Yes, I understand,” I murmured. Mrs. Gray sensed my nervousness and attempted to console me, but her efforts fell short. When we arrived at the principal’s office, she knocked on the door, and the principal beckoned us inside. Stepping into the room, I immediately noticed that he wasn’t alone. A beautiful woman sat beside him. Though likely older than me, her expensive suit, impeccable hairstyle, and radiant skin made her appear youthful and striking.

“This is Sophia Rayne, Mrs. Williams,” the Principal declared, gesturing toward me. The woman turned, her gaze sweeping me from head to toe, her expression a mix of disapproval and disappointment. I couldn’t help but feel offended —after all, I had no idea who she was. Why the contemptuous scrutiny?

“I left my beautiful home to meet the woman my husband has chosen over me,” the woman’s voice dripped with bitterness. “I thought it was someone better, but alas, you’re nothing but a wannabe.”

“I beg your pardon, madam? Who are you, and why insult me here at my workplace?” My anger flared.

“Your hurt feelings pale in comparison to the pain you’ve caused me,” she hissed, rising from her seat and closing the gap between us. “How much should I pay you to leave my husband? Name your price, lady.”

“And who is your husband?” I demanded.

“Craig Williams,” she blurted out, her anger palpable. “Does that name ring a bell? You’re foolish to think you could deceive me about your relationship with him, Ms. Rayne.”

“Is Craig married? I don’t understand,” I stammered, utterly flustered by this unexpected revelation.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know, Ms. Rayne,” the woman’s voice dripped with infuriation. “I’ve dealt with several like you, and it always ends in cash payments. So name your price.”

“I don’t need your money,” I replied hastily. I fought back tears, but they betrayed me, streaming down my face. The principal observed me with a wry smile. I understood his thoughts —my fall from grace. From a decent woman who rejected a promiscuous man to a homewrecker who secretly entered a love affair with another married man. I stood there, a hypocrite before everyone in that office, knowing the news would ripple through the entire school.

“Craig didn't tell me he was married,” I added, desperate to prove my innocence.

“Then,” the woman’s voice remained icy, “you should leave my husband alone from now on.”

“Yes,” I sobbed endlessly, “thank you for enlightening me.”

“Spare me your tears,” the woman snapped, storming out of the office, her expression infuriated. Mrs. Gray, recognizing my innocence, patted my back gently, trying to quell my tears. But the principal had other plans. He swiftly dismissed the deputy Principal, citing counseling for me. Once she was gone, he revealed a sinister smile, rising from his seat. Closing the distance between us, he placed a hand on my shoulder, the other slipping around my waist. Panic surged—I pushed against him, but his grip held firm.

“Stop struggling, Sophia. I’m no different from the man you’ve been sleeping with for years,” he whispered. “I can make you happier. You know I love you.”

The principal leaned in, his stout lips inching toward mine. Instincts surged within me. My stiletto found his knee, and he yelped in pain. Staggering back, his eyes bore malice. In that moment, escape presented itself. I rushed out, gliding to my classroom without a backward glance. There, I snatched my purse and coat, storming out without explanation. Hailing a taxi, I wept as the day’s events replayed in my mind. Could a day get any worse? I wondered bitterly.

Then my phone rang, and I answered hastily. Craig’s voice sounded normal. I invited him to our favorite restaurant in town, and he agreed. Hanging up, I cried bitterly. The taxi driver eyed me with concern, but dared not ask. I didn’t care. It was a painful moment; a flashback to all those times I had a chance to walk away, yet didn’t. I clung to hope —a desperate wish for a happy ever after. Now, my heart was broken

The driver dropped me off at the restaurant, and with a surge of courage, I stepped into the dimly lit establishment —a place where the chefs celebrated diversity, serving an array of cuisines from around the world. It was here that I savored delicious African dishes. I placed my order without waiting for Craig. Waiting was futile now. Thirty minutes later, he arrived, his face etched with dismay. He grumbled about it, but I brushed it aside. His sins were far weightier than mine.

“Why are you late?” I asked, preparing for the conversation ahead.

“Sophie,” he called me by my nickname, “I got caught in traffic.”

“Or perhaps your wife didn’t want to release you,” I retorted.

“You’re the sole woman in my life right now,” Craig insisted.

“Your wife paid me a visit at work. She offered me money to leave you,” I stated bluntly.

“Debra?” Craig’s eyes widened.

“Her name is Debra? They referred to her as Mrs. Williams.”

“Sophie, I love you —not Debra. But I can’t abandon her,” Craig confessed. “Everything I possess initially belongs to her.”

“So you used her to climb higher…”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Do you realize how humiliated I felt today?”

“I apologize,” Craig’s expression darkened.

“And I apologize too, Craig. It’s over between us.”

“Sophie, it hasn’t reached that point.” Craig reached out. I pushed his hand away, rose from my seat abruptly and left. Craig and I were now history.

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