The Indifferent Ex-Husband: Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate novel Chapter 220

Sophia was sitting right across from Brandon and caught sight of his cool, handsome face, which made her involuntarily press her lips and get all uptight.

Ivan, sensing the shift in Sophia’s demeanor, leaned in, concern written all over his face, and whispered, “What’s up? Feeling under the weather?”

His voice was so low that only Sophia could hear him, while others just noticed the worry he couldn’t hide as he looked at her.

Don glanced at Ivan and suddenly started doubting his own judgment. He couldn’t help but turn his gaze towards Brandon.

Brandon seemed oblivious to the attention, his focus already on the stage that was getting prepped, his expression serene. But those fingers pressed against the teacup.

Don caught a glimpse of his knuckles turning white and once again couldn’t resist looking over at Sophia.

Sophia, with her eyes downcast, didn’t dare look in Brandon’s direction and just gave Ivan a polite shake of the head, “I’m fine.”

After that, she picked up her teacup and took delicate sips. The whole table was steeped in an odd tension.

Luckily, the ribbon-cutting ceremony was about to start.

Zachary, after schmoozing with some folks nearby, turned to invite Brandon to join him on stage.

Brandon nodded slightly and followed Zachary up. Ivan was also called to the stage.

When Brandon stood up to leave, Don clearly saw Sophia breathe a sigh of relief, her fingers relaxing slightly on her teacup.

Don chuckled and looked at Sophia, “Still scared of Brandon, huh?”

Sophia gave an awkward smile, “No, not really.”

“It’s normal, nothing to be embarrassed about.” Don said with a laugh, “I’ve known him for years and hardly anyone can be themselves around him. He’s been like this since we were kids, which is why he barely had any friends back then.”

Sophia’s smile froze a bit as she glanced towards Brandon on stage.

He was already at the front, greeting the others with a humble yet polite demeanor, yet his presence was undeniably commanding.

Don also looked at Brandon on stage and continued, “So, do you get why little Yolanda was different for him? She was the only one who wasn’t afraid of him and always stood by his side, come hell or high water.”

Sophia just looked at him, not responding. Don turned to her, perhaps reminiscing about the young Yolanda or something else, and his look was nostalgic.

“Brandon’s mom passed away from illness when he was seven. She adored him and the feeling was mutual. Her death hit him hard, turned him into a loner with no friends, and holed up in his room all day long. Yolanda, though, would bug him every day, talking to him, cheering him up. If he didn’t want to talk, she’d just sit with him in silence. If he refused to eat, she’d starve with him. If anyone dared to mock him for not having a mom, she’d be up in their face, ready to brawl. You could say Yolanda helped Brandon through some of his darkest days.”

“When his mom’s death anniversary comes around, hasn’t he ever taken you to pay your respects?” Don probed.

Sophia shook her head, suddenly feeling a twinge of sorrow, unable to pin down her emotions but feeling a sense of discomfort.

He had never asked her to accompany him to visit his biological mother's grave. She wondered if, in some way, this meant he had never truly acknowledged her as his wife. Or perhaps, he knew even then that their relationship wouldn't last.

Realizing he might have broached a sensitive topic, Don covered it up with a nervous chuckle, “You know, right after his mom passed, Brandon flat-out refused to visit her grave. On the day of her burial, he was adamant about not going, crying and insisting his mom wasn't dead. Maybe he just couldn't get over it and never visited by himself.”

Sophia forced a smile, not continuing the conversation.

She didn't know if Brandon ever visited, but she knew he never went during her death day. Her gaze drifted back to Brandon on stage.

His expression had returned to its usual composure, calmly watching Zachary speak, his familiar cool and collected demeanor in place.

She had never seen Brandon look defeated or disheartened, but having experienced loneliness in her own youth, she could imagine how lost and helpless a seven-year-old Brandon must have felt.

At that time, Yolanda’s relentless company must have been precious to him.

She was the sole warmth and light in his dark world; even as a child, that kind of warmth stuck to the bones. Just like Brandon was to her when she was seventeen, she could understand the significance of Yolanda to him.