7 Years, Flash Marriage, Regret

1
I was grabbing a greasy kebab from a street carta guilty pleasurewhen I ran into an old college classmate.
Her eyes widened. She said I was taking the silent treatment with Sophia too far.
Sophia Thorne. Daughter of the wealthy family my father worked for, and my first love.
Wed planned to study abroad togethera bright, clear future.
But at our graduation party, someone drugged her.
When I rushed to help, she suddenly came to her senses in the haze.
She had her bodyguards throw me, naked, out of the room as everyone watched, screaming I was a gold digger whod do anything for money.
After that, my name meant social climber. The citys scorn grew suffocating, so I left with my father. That was two years ago.
Now my classmate pulled out her phone. You have no ideaSophias been searching for you like crazy, she said. Just apologize and humor her. Couples fight and make up. Its not a big deal.
A bitter laugh escaped me. I showed her my lock screena smiling woman and a babyand the gold band on my finger.
Make up? I said flatly. Im married. I have a kid.
...

2
This classmate, Chloe, had been Sophias best friend since childhood. Shed been a spectator to our entire relationship, from its innocent beginnings to its fiery end.
She fumbled, hanging up the phone, her hand trembling slightly. After a long moment, she stared at me, her voice a hushed, horrified whisper.
"No way, man. You seriously had a kid with someone else behind her back?"
Id snuck out tonight for a moment of peace, not a trip down memory lane. I had no intention of continuing this conversation and turned to leave.
But she scrambled to block my path, her face a mask of undisguised panic. "Sam, listen to me! Sophia is even richer now than when you two broke up!"
Her words tumbled out in a rush. "She took over the family business. She's Northwoods most eligible bachelorette! She even said if you come back, she'll marry you. No prenup, nothing!"
Her desperate pitch faltered as she saw the complete lack of emotion on my face. Still, she pushed on, one last desperate plea. "Just... divorce your wife. Get rid of the kid. I'll pretend I never saw you tonight."
My blood ran cold. The look in my eyes must have been sharp, because she flinched.
"You and Sophia need to see a shrink," I said, my voice dangerously low. "Stop harassing people."
Her face flushed a deep, angry red. She pointed a trembling finger at me, speechless.
I was already halfway down the block when I heard her shriek behind me.
"Who are you trying to fool, Sam? Weren't you the pathetic loser who drugged Sophia trying to climb into her bed in the first place?"
Climb into her bed.
That label had been stuck to me from the day Sophia and I started dating. She was the city's beloved heiress, and my father was just a gardener on her familys estate.
An heiress and a nobody. It was a mismatch in everyones eyes.
But Sophia's love had been fierce, unapologetic. People whispered that I must have used some dirty trick, some low-class charm to bewitch the daughter of a prestigious family.
Back then, I was young and proud, my self-respect my most prized possession. All I knew was that I loved Sophia, and she loved me.
So I gritted my teeth, fueled by a burning desire to prove them all wrong. I wanted to show the world that Sam Cole, on his own merit, was worthy of Sophia Thorne.
I refused her supplementary credit card. I never used her connections to pad my resume.
From eighteen to twenty-two, our relationship, the one everyone swore would fail, lasted four years.
I thought we would have so many more.
Then, the summer after graduation, Julian Vance, the son of a close family friend of the Thornes, came to stay with them in Northwood.
Julian was the real deala blue-blooded scion from a legacy family. He played the harp, excelled at equestrianism, and could dance like a professional. He was radiant and confident, possessing everything I had, and everything I didn't.
Whispers started circulating, dropped casually in front of me, about an old, informal betrothal pact their parents had made years ago. Julian's visit, they said, was to make it official.
Anxiety gnawed at me until I couldn't take it anymore. I drove to the stables to find Sophia. Every Saturday afternoon, shed be there, riding to blow off steam.
But this time was different. When I found her, she wasn't riding. She was leaning against the fence, her gaze fixed on the center of the ring, her eyes sparkling with an unfamiliar light.
I followed her line of sight.
There was Julian, magnificent in his riding gear, effortlessly commanding his horse.
I watched him for a moment, then looked back at Sophia. She hadn't noticed me. Her attention was completely captivated by him.
My unease morphed into full-blown panic. I finally called her name.
She started, turning to me. Then her face lit up, and she grabbed my hand, gushing about how incredible Julian's riding skills were.
Finally, she asked, "Sam, want to give it a try?"
My face burned with shame. "I... I don't know how to ride," I mumbled, feeling myself shrink.
The disappointment that flashed in her eyes felt like a dagger to my heart.
We had a fight that day, a stiff, awkward argument. She looked utterly bewildered but tried her best to explain. She insisted she didn't like Julian, that the childhood engagement was just a drunken joke between their parents that no one took seriously.
Logically, that should have been the end of it.
But the knot in my throat only tightened. I wanted to tell her to stay away from him. I wanted to say, Just wait for me. I'll be someone great one day, someone who deserves you.
But the words were trapped, suffocated by a pride that felt more like poison. To say any of it would be to admit my own inferiority, my own desperate, pathetic jealousy.
So, I grew quiet.
Sophia didnt seem to notice. She and Julian had too many shared interests to explore.
But her mother did.
Mrs. Thorne summoned me to the sunroom, her tone as light and pleasant as if she were discussing the weather.
"Do you know why I never tried to stop Sophia from dating you, Sam?"
I remained silent.
"Because I knew it would never last," she continued, her smile never reaching her eyes. "This way, she gets it out of her system. There will be no lingering obsession." She gestured vaguely towards the garden. "See? Look how well she and Julian are getting along now."
I stood there, a chill spreading down my spine as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me.
"Sophia told me she doesn't like him," I managed to say.
Mrs. Thorne let out a soft, soundless laugh, adjusting the cashmere shawl around her shoulders. "You foolish boy. If you step aside gracefully, you'll give her an easy way out."
"And if I don't?"
"Sam," she said, her voice losing its feigned warmth, "this is a notification, not a suggestion."
Mrs. Thorne was a woman of her word. The next day, she fired my father.
He stood before me, tears streaming down his weathered, sun-beaten face, his chest heaving with frustrated sobs. His hands moved frantically, signing his story.
"They said I was a thief. They docked a month's pay. But I wasn't! I never left the gardens!"
I choked back my own tears, apologizing over and over, promising Id get his wages back.
But when I went to find Sophia, she was playing a video game with Julian.
She glanced up at my interruption, tossed her controller aside, and asked in a strange, detached tone, "Sam, why did you get together with me in the first place?"
I froze. "Did your mother say something to you?" I asked, my voice sharp. "Sophia, don't listen to her, she"
"Don't talk about my mother like that, Sam," she cut in, her expression hardening with irritation.
I stood there, lost, staring at this suddenly unfamiliar woman. The annoyance in her eyes felt like a physical blow.
After what felt like an eternity, she turned away, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder without even looking at me. "Just go home for now."
I stood outside the door, watching as she sat back down. Julian picked up his controller, said something that made her laugh, and she leaned against him, her body relaxing into his.
He didn't pull away.
For the first time, I felt a horrifying certainty that Mrs. Thorne had been right all along.
A few days later, two things arrived simultaneously: my father's missing wages and my acceptance letter from UPenn.
Seeing the joy on my fathers face as he clutched the check, and reading the email on my phone, I hesitated. Finally, I sent Sophia a text, thanking her and telling her my offer had come through.
Going to UPenn together had always been our plan.
She replied instantly with an address and two words: "Come here."
Sophia was out with her circle of friendsthe daughters of Northwood's elite, whose favorite pastime was stirring up trouble.
When I walked in, the girl nearest the door raised her champagne flute.
"Well, well!" she drawled. "Look who it is! Sir Sam himself. Congrats on the UPenn acceptance letter! Don't forget us little people when you're on top!"
I'd grown used to this kind of veiled mockery over the years. I ignored her and walked straight to Sophia, who was staring down into her drink.
Before I could even sit, the same girl added with a smirk, "You know, Sam, you're a classic case of marrying up. Let's be real, someone from your background would never get a chance to study abroad if it weren't for Sophia."
Her words had barely settled when Sophia let out a cold laugh. She rose slowly, gracefully, holding her wine glass.
Then, in front of everyone, she poured the entire contents over the girl's head.
The empty glass smashed at her feet, and Sophia's hand cracked across her face in a vicious slap.
"Your mouth stinks," Sophia spat. "You should keep it shut."
The room erupted into chaos. The two of them were a tangle of flailing limbs and curses until they were finally pulled apart and sent to separate hospitals.
In the car on the way to the emergency room, Sophia wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. Without looking at me, she asked, "Did you get the money?"
I was dabbing at a cut on her knuckles with a napkin. I nodded.
She snatched her hand back, a strange, bitter chuckle escaping her lips.
Then she grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze. Her eyes were intense, searching. "Sam," she said, each word a carefully placed stone, "if I didn't have money, would you still be with me?"
A wave of exhaustion washed over me, so profound it was almost dizzying. But I held her gaze, swallowing the lump in my throat, and answered with all the sincerity I had left.
"Sophia, believe it or not, it's always been you. Just you."
Years ago, my father, who is deaf-mute, was repeatedly cheated out of his wages by unscrupulous agencies who took advantage of him. It was Sophia, passing by, who stopped and gave me her number, telling me her family needed a gardener and that my dad should try applying.
The memory of her bright, confident smile still visited me in my dreams. She was a splash of vibrant color in my otherwise gray life. How could I not love her?
But I knew, in that moment, she didn't believe me anymore.
The way she looked at me was different now. It was the calculated, scrutinizing gaze of a superior assessing a subordinate, someone trying to curry favor.
For the first time, I seriously considered ending things with her.
But the thought alone was a physical pain, a fist clenching around my heart.
So I did the cowardly thing. I buried my head in the sand and did nothing.
Until the graduation party. I was in a storage closet, grabbing more chairs, when I saw Sophia stumbling down the hotel corridor, swaying so badly she was about to collapse.
My heart seized. I dropped the chairs and sprinted towards her, catching her just as her knees gave out.
Her hair was a mess, her face flushed, and she was muttering about being hot. I assumed she was just drunk and started half-carrying, half-dragging her towards a private lounge to rest.
It wasn't until she pushed me onto the sofa and pinned me down that I realized something was terribly wrong.
I struggled, trying to hold her off while fumbling for my phone to call 911.
But she clung to me, her body trembling with sobs, mumbling my name over and over. A traitorous thought flickered through my mind: maybe this was fate making the choice for me.
And Sophia, it seemed, had made her choice too.
She lifted her head, her eyes hazy as she tried to focus on my face.
"E...than?"
My hands trembled as I reached up, my fingers brushing against the back of her neck.
The next second, a powerful kick sent me sprawling onto the floor.
Sophia clutched at her dress, staring down at me with wide, horrified eyes. "Are you insane? What do you think you're doing? You drugged me!"
I stared back at her, stunned. "Drugged you? No, I just saw you... you looked like you were about to pass out, so I..."
My words died in my throat. The look in her eyespure contempt and disgustsilenced me.
"Keep lying," she sneered. "Just keep lying, Sam. When did you become this... this creature?"
My face burned with humiliation. "It wasn't me," I pleaded, a last, desperate attempt to salvage the truth. "I didn't do anything! You can check the security cameras!"
Her only response was a cold, mocking silence.
My heart felt like it was turning to ice. I turned away, wiping at the corner of my eye, and whispered the words I'd been avoiding for weeks.
"Sophia, let's break up."
The silence was shattered by her sharp, cruel laugh. She strode over, her heel pressing down hard on my shoulder, pinning me to the floor as she pulled out her phone and called security.
"Wow, Sam, you're good," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Playing hard to get now? Is money really that important to you?" She let out a sharp, decisive breath. "Fine."
Before I could react, two burly security guards were at the door.
Sophia opened it wide, pointing a trembling finger at me. "Get him out of here," she commanded, her face a blank mask. "Throw him into the hallway. Just like that."

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