Chapter 3: Disintegrating

With her bag rolling unsteadily behind her, Sophia walked through the streets of Manhattan, her shoes clicking on the pavement. Her scarf did nothing to protect her from the January wind that pierced her cheeks. Fragments of the previous several days, including Jacob's treachery, the embarrassing prenuptial agreement, and the terrible sensation of loss that seemed like it might engulf her, ran through her thoughts.

There was nowhere else for her to go. Her anchor amid an unexpected storm, Grace was the only person on her mind.

Sophia's legs hurt from the lengthy walk, and her fingers were numb by the time she arrived at Grace's apartment complex in Queens. Her chest constricted as uncertainty began to creep in as she gazed at the buzzer. Was showing up without warning too much? Would Grace comprehend at all?

She hit the "Grace Rivera" button before she could talk herself out of it.

After a brief burst of static, Grace's recognizable voice could be heard over the intercom. "Hello?"

Sophia replied, her voice breaking, "It's me."

"Sophia?" Grace's voice became more worried. "What's the matter? Are you alright?

"No," Sophia said, tears in her eyes. "I need you."

Sophia entered as the door buzzed open, the building's warmth a sharp contrast to the freezing streets outside. With each step seeming heavier than the previous, she made her way to the third level via the stairs. Before she could knock, Grace's door flung open when she arrived.

Grace, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, stood at the doorway with her wavy black hair tied back in an untidy bun. Her dark brown eyes widened in worry as they surveyed Sophia's face.

Grace pulled her inside and whispered, "Oh my God, come in."

A pleasant warmth was projected by the mellow glow of the string lights, and the apartment smelled of vanilla and cinnamon. After letting Grace carry her bag, Sophia led her to the sofa.

Grace sat next to her and took her hands, saying, "Talk to me."

Sophia opened her mouth to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. She felt all of her pent-up rage and heartache explode out of her. She buried her face in her hands and let the tears fall.

Grace took her by the arm and held her firmly. "It's alright," she whispered. "Release it."

Sophia wept for what seemed like hours. She wiped her cheeks with her coat sleeve and drew a trembling breath when the tears eventually stopped.

She said in a raspy voice, "I caught Jacob with Camille."

Grace tensed. "Wait—what? Camille? Camille, your cousin?

Sophia's mouth quivered as she nodded.

"That serpent," Grace growled. "I've always sensed that she was strange. And Jacob—that deceitful, dishonest jerk.

As the words took hold, Sophia's chest constricted. She hadn't let herself feel angry since she had been so preoccupied with her own suffering. The anger started to rise after hearing Grace say it.

Silently, Sophia said, "I filed for divorce." "But the prenuptial agreement..." She swallowed hard and drifted off.

Grace's forehead wrinkled. "How about it?"

With a hollow voice, Sophia replied, "It leaves me with nothing." "He owns the place, the money, and everything else. Grace, I'm broke. Absolutely broke.

Grace tightened her hold on her hand. "That son of a—" She took a long breath to regain her composure and bit her lip. "All right. We will resolve this. You are welcome to remain here as long as necessary. Sophia, you're not alone. I've got you.

Grace's comments caused a glimmer of warmth in Sophia's chest. It was only now that she understood how much she needed to hear that.

"I'm grateful," she muttered.

Grace gave a headshake. "Don't give me credit. That is the purpose of best buddies.

Sophia spoke about the affair, the altercation, and the divorce petition for the next hour. Grace listened carefully, her face alternating between incredulity and indignation.

After Sophia was done, Grace folded her arms and rested back against the sofa. "You've endured a lot," she said quietly. "But, Soph, you're stronger than this. You'll overcome it.

Despite Sophia's desire to trust her, the burden of her situation seemed oppressive. She said, "I'm not even sure where to begin."

Grace gave her chin a contemplative tap. "You must first take a break. You are worn out, and making judgments when you are intoxicated yields no positive results.

Sophia paused. "I don't wish to force—"

"You're not being intimidating," Grace forcefully interjected. The bottom line is that you're staying here. We'll work out the rest later. I have the pull-out bed in the living room.

Sophia smiled slightly at her. "You save lives."

Grace smiled. "I am, damn it. Let me get some blankets now. It seems that you might also benefit from a hot shower.

Sophia gave herself permission to relax while Grace busied herself. The little but comfortable apartment was brimming with Grace's individuality, with shelves brimming with books and plants, vibrant throw cushions, and framed pictures of their college years. The artificial grandeur of the apartment she and Jacob had inhabited was a far cry from here.

Sophia felt a sense of security for the first time in days.

---

After a hot supper and a shower later that evening, Sophia laid on the pull-out bed and gazed up at the ceiling. With the exception of the dim glow from the city lights coming through the drapes, the room was completely black. Sophia was unable to fall asleep, even though Grace had gone to bed hours before. She couldn't stop thinking about what had brought her here.

Sifting through her messages, she grabbed her phone from the bedside table. She hadn't opened the one from Jacob yet.

"I erred. Don't do this, please. I cherish you.

As she read it, her chest constricted, sadness and rage battling inside of her. After all he had done, how could he possibly try to control her? Her mouth tensed as she erased the message without responding.

Another alert came up before she could put the phone down. It came from an unidentified phone number.

"You deserve better." When you're ready, give me a call. – A.K.

Sophia's heart was racing as she scowled. She didn’t know the number, but the initials sent a shudder down her spine. Who was this? And how could they know what she was going through?

She gazed at the message for a long while, her finger hanging over the screen. A part of her wanted to dismiss it, to pretend it didn’t exist. But another part—the part longing for answers—whispered that she couldn’t

afford to.

Taking a deep breath, Sophia tapped the message, her mind racing with options.