Chapter 74
Winter’s mockery hung in the air, suffocating. Everyone in the restaurant seemed frozen, waiting for my reaction.
Her insulting words kept echoing in my mind.
I stared at her in disbelief. What had I done to deserve such public humiliation? We’d barely interacted beyond professional exchanges in the hospital corridors.
“I don’t understand,” I said softly, keeping my emotions as controlled as possible. “Have I offended you somehow?”
Winter scoffed, flipping her perfectly styled hair. “Don’t play innocent. Everyone knows that since you arrived, Dr. Sanders has been attracted to you alone!”
Several colleagues shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their eyes darting between us. The atmosphere in the room grew increasingly tense.
Winter continued, her voice dripping with disdain: “You’re a married woman, aren’t you? Dr. Sanders is still single. What right does a woman who’s already had a child have to occupy his heart? Unless…” her eyes narrowed suspiciously, ‘you two
knew each other before?”
Her insinuation was effective–almost everyone present believed there was some secret past relationship between Thomas
and me.
The whispers around the table grew louder as everyone seemed to lean forward, hungry for gossip.
“Winter, that’s enough,” a senior nurse attempted to intervene, but Winter was past the point of restraint.
I remained silent, torn between defending myself and maintaining dignity. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I felt the weight of every judgmental stare in the room.
Winter exchanged a meaningful glance with Thomas across the room. To my surprise, he gave her a slight nod, his expression unreadable.
What was happening?
“I have an idea,” Winter suddenly announced, clapping her hands to gain everyone’s attention. “Let’s play a game. What if we all dress up like Sophia? Then Dr. Sanders can find the real Sophia among us. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
I felt my stomach drop. “This is ridiculous-”
But my protest was drowned out by enthusiastic voices from around the table. My colleagues–people I’d worked alongside for months–seemed eager to participate in this humiliating spectacle.
“Yes, let’s do it!” “That sounds hilarious!” “I’ve got makeup in my purse!”
As Winter’s suggestion gained everyone’s support, I began to panic. I looked desperately toward Thomas, hoping he would stop this absurdity, but he merely watched with that same enigmatic smile.
“I really don’t think I began, but several female colleagues were already surrounding me, pulling me to my feet.
“Come on, Sophia, it’ll be fun!” Lisa from Radiology insisted, linking her arm through mine with a grip that left no room
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for refusal.
“We need a separate room to get ready,” another nurse declared already leading our growing procession toward the door.
was practically dragged to a private dining room down the hall my protests falling on deaf ears. Within minutes, I found “myself surrounded by a group of women rifling through purses for makeup and hair accessories.
“Wait, please- I tried again to communicate, my face flushing with embarrassment and frustration.
“Just relax, Sophia,” Winter said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s all in good fun.”
The women descended on me like stylists preparing a model for a runway show. Someone pulled my hair from its neat bun, another wiped away what little makeup I had with a cleansing wipe. As they applied foundation, blush, and eyeshadow, I sat rigid with discomfort, feeling like my face had become a canvas for their amusement.
I couldn’t understand why this was happening. Had I unknowingly made enemies? Was this normal workplace hazing that I’d been too isolated to recognize?
After what felt like hours of prodding and primping, the women stepped back to admire their handiwork.
“Perfect!” Lisa declared, holding up a compact mirror for me to see.
I barely recognized the woman staring back at me. They’d styled my hair in loose waves, applied makeup that made my eyes look larger, my cheekbones more defined. I looked… different.
Not necessarily better or worse, just not like myself.
The door to our private room suddenly swung open. Thomas entered, pushing a cart with a two–tiered cake adorned with lit candles. Winter followed behind him, her earlier hostility completely vanished, replaced by a bright, genuine smile.
The group began singing “Happy Birthday” in unison, their voices filling the small room.
I sat frozen in shock. Birthday? My birthday?
Today was indeed my birthday–I had completely forgotten. After five years of marriage where Henry never acknowledged the day, it had simply become another date on the calendar.
Thomas wheeled the cake directly in front of me, his eyes meeting mine.
I suddenly realized that everything had been a birthday surprise arranged by Thomas.
“Make a wish, Sophia,” he said softly.
Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the dancing candle flames. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had celebrated my
birthday.
Winter stepped forward, her expression now genuinely apologetic. “I’m so sorry for earlier, Sophia. It was all Thomas’s idea -the argument, the makeup, everything. We just wanted to give you a proper surprise.”
“But… why use this method?” I asked, still confused by the dramatic shift.
We needed to get you into this room somehow,” she explained with a sheepish smile. “You’re usually so perceptive, we
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knew if we just invited you, you would definitely become suspicious.”
Thomas knelt beside my chair. “When I realized today was your birthday, I couldn’t let it pass uncelebrated. Everyone deselves to feel special on their birthday.”
“Someone handed me an enormous bouquet of lilies–my favorite flowers,
“Happy 24th birthday, Sophia,” Thomas said, his expression sincere. “May this year bring you all the happiness you
deserve.”
The room erupted in cheers and applause, the earlier tension completely dissolved into genuine celebration. Colleagues who had witnessed my humiliation now raised glasses in my honor, their faces alight with genuine affection.
I blew out the candles with a heart too full for words, my cheeks wet with tears I couldn’t hold back.
At that same moment, in Maple Grove, a very different scene was unfolding. The living room was filled with tense atmosphere.
Billy stood in the doorway, motionless, his small face pale with fear. He had just witnessed his father lose complete control in a fit of rage.
A maid cowered on the floor, one hand pressed against her reddened cheek where Henry had struck her. She knelt before him, trembling.
“Please forgive me, Mr. Harding,” she begged, her voice breaking “I didn’t mean to-”
“You didn’t mean to?” Henry’s voice was deadly quiet, more frightening than if he had shouted.
Billy watched his father with wide, terrified eyes. He had never seen this side of Henry before–this cold, violent stranger wearing his father’s face.
The maid continued to plead, tears streaming down her face, while Billy remained rooted to the spot, too afraid to move, too afraid to breathe.
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