"Do you love me, Sophie?" He lowered his eyelids and silently parted his lips in a grin.
Hearing the words he suddenly uttered, Sophie covered her mouth and held her breath.
"You can't say it, can you?" He chuckled softly, then murmured in a low voice: "I understand. You must have already started to fall in love with me."
She bit her lower lip, trying hard not to make any sound; her usual sharp-tongued demeanor had vanished entirely.
"You've promised to come to the banquet with me. I'm already looking forward to that day." Ned's eyes held only calm, with no trace of amusement.
Sophie's heart twisted tightly, and her heartbeat inexplicably began to race…
She was afraid in her heart—of her mother's warnings, Lara's tearful complaints, Archibald's jokes, and Ned's eagerness. All of it made her panic. That promise had been so reluctant and impulsive; she hadn't truly considered what kind of people she would face in half a month.
"Once you've promised, you can't go back on it. I believe you'll do it."
"I—I will attend. I'll keep any promise I make to you. I just hope you won't regret ruining your birthday banquet because of me." Her tone was utterly despondent, devoid of any joy from receiving the invitation.
"Sophie, you still don't love me enough. When a woman falls in love with a man, she'll be reckless and disregard everything—not hesitate and weigh the pros and cons like you." Ned spoke slowly and deliberately: "In her eyes, there's only this man; she can't see or feel anyone else's existence."
Sophie continued holding her breath without saying a word, until she felt a burning pain in her chest, then began to breathe lightly. She was afraid her urgent breaths would betray her emotions…
"Can you love me recklessly, Sophie?" he asked gently, sounding just like a lover's whisper.
Sophie blinked, desperately trying to think of how to answer the question, but her mind was blank.
"No need to rush your answer, because by then, I'll definitely know." A smile played on his lips.
"You make me feel like you have a lot of experience." Sophie finally regained her normal thinking and replied half-jokingly.
The other end of the phone was silent for a long time, then came his lazy voice, laced with a faint smile: "Do I? I thought I'd hidden it well."
In that instant, Sophie felt as if the blood in her entire body had stopped flowing, freezing her in place. Archibald's earlier joke flashed through her mind: I simply don't believe he'd ever be serious about a woman.
"Heh, I was just kidding," he explained casually, his tone brimming with amusement.
"Now I feel like you're Archibald possessed, because you love cracking jokes too." Sophie tried to keep her voice light and natural, fooling herself into believing she didn't care, that it didn't matter.
Ned said nothing more. Sophie quickly muttered goodnight and hung up.
"Sophie, what took you so long in the bathroom? Are you okay?" Her mother's voice drifted over, neither too close nor too far. She had actually called softly a few minutes earlier, but Sophie, immersed in the call, had been too focused to notice.
"Coming, coming. A colleague just called, and we chatted a bit longer." Sophie gathered her emotions and sat in the bedside chair.
Her mother, who had been vomiting violently all day, looked frail. The pained expression on her face twisted Sophie's heart, and a wave of guilt surged through her. "Mom, the American specialist for the consultation won't arrive in the UK for another two weeks, but he's already reviewed your case. The surgery should be scheduled soon. Hang in there a little longer. Here, drink some water…"
Once her mother fell into an exhausted sleep, Sophie gave the caregiver a few instructions and returned to her small apartment.
She was starting to regret it—impulsively agreeing to Ned's invitation. Right now, the last thing she needed to worry about wasn't how to face the sarcasm from his family, but how to solve the problem of what to wear to the banquet.
Standing up from her seat, she rummaged through her simple wardrobe. Aside from a few sets of loungewear and her school uniform, all she had were two work outfits for rotation. Not a single one was suitable for a banquet.
She opened her banking app on her phone and checked her savings. The 30,000 pounds she had painstakingly saved had already been reduced by 18,000 for her mother's illness and rent. Now, only 12,000 pounds remained.
If she were still in Manchester, this would absolutely be a huge sum of money. Back then, they could only rely on her mother taking on odd jobs everywhere to earn a living; the family scraped by, with no savings to speak of.
But the moment she thought about having to buy clothes, shoes, and a handbag for this birthday banquet, those savings suddenly seemed pathetically meager.
In truth, Sophie didn't even know how to pick out clothes or shoes.
But how could anyone not know how to choose clothes? How to pick shoes?
It's just that sometimes the simplest things become utterly inapplicable when it comes to attending a "Harrington family" banquet.
Last night, she had scrolled through shopping websites until midnight; every single piece of clothing and pair of shoes for sale was unsuitable for a banquet. Today she got off work early and decided to try her luck at the "department store."
This department store was reputed to be London's most expensive luxury emporium. The moment Sophie stepped inside, she felt excruciatingly out of place. Even though no one was staring at her, she still felt wrong all over.
In her memory, when she was very young, her mother had once taken her to a department store. In the end, they bought nothing—just wandered around and went home. Later, as her mother worked multiple jobs to put food on the table and pay Sophie's tuition, she never set foot in another department store again. Everything inside was something they couldn't afford.
She still remembered that twenty days ago, for Lara's birthday, the gift she gave was bought at a boutique. She had carefully compared the prices in the window display, anxiously calculating her meager budget.
Now, in an even more exorbitant department store, the dazzling array of merchandise left her eyes spinning. Of course, the price tags made her recoil even more. She estimated that the money in her bank card probably wasn't enough to buy even a single handbag, let alone a full outfit. Besides, these things would likely be worn only once and never again.
Finally, Sophie circled back to a counter whose name started with a K. She knew that continuing to wander was pointless; she couldn't afford a single item here. She had already looped around several times and didn't dare approach those expensive, exquisite boutiques.
There was a long queue of people at the entrance of this boutique, and the staff member at the door was directing customers to enter in order.
It's incomprehensible—why would anyone willingly line up to scramble for something so expensive? Sophie grumbled inwardly.
But she also understood that, no matter how reluctant she felt, she had to queue up just like them—though for a different purpose.
Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and slowly stepped forward, joining the end of the line.