"Sofia," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos within, "I'm tired of being your scapegoat. You can't keep running back and forth. He needs you, yes, but it's time for a divorce."
The words hung heavily between us and I ended the call abruptly, the click of the phone echoing in the silent room. I turned to face my reflection in the mirror, grappling with the reality of my transformation.
Just moments ago, my body had been engulfed by flames, my flesh scorched and twisted in a nightmarish conflagration. It was all because of Lewis.
The memory of that inferno was branded onto my soul. Lewis, languishing in his terminal illness, had sought release from his suffering. Sofia, driven by her desperate love for him, had dragged me into the fire.
The blaze had been a ravenous beast, devouring everything in its path. As the flames licked my skin, I had fought desperately to escape. But Lewis, a spectral figure in the flickering light, had blocked my way, his eyes cold and resolute.
Sofia, her face a mask of terror, had pulled Lewis to safety, their figures silhouetted against the inferno's glow. The outside world was a cacophony of sirens and shouting, but my screams were swallowed by the roaring fire.
In the final moments, as the flames consumed me, I saw them together – Sofia and Lewis, their embrace a betrayal. A firefighter's voice broke through the illusion of their perfect escape. "Anyone else in there?" he called out.
Sofia's reply, cold and calculated, sliced through the chaos. "No, everyone's out."
Her actions were a knife to my heart. Tears in her eyes, she held Lewis' hand, a promise of a future that didn't include me. "Look," she said, her voice devoid of remorse, "we finally have a child."
A family of three, built on the ashes of my existence. When the truth came out, her response was chillingly indifferent. "Rowan is dead. What can we do? The living must live."
I had foolishly hoped for at least a semblance of guilt or sorrow from her, but I was wrong. I stared at my reflection, a ghost in the body of a man reborn. She was right about one thing: the living must live. But this time, it would be on my terms.
In my previous life, Sofia and Lewis were inseparable, their love story abruptly halted by the iron grip of her parents. Our paths intersected through the choreographed dance of arranged marriage. After just two brief meetings, Sofia acquiesced to my proposal.