After Max had left her befuddled with the painkillers, it took a very long time for her to recover from the surprise. And when she got over the surprise, she found herself becoming more and more confused with each passing second. She ate her pasta, washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen as much as she could in her exhausted state. And during the whole time, her eyes barely ceased staring at the white bottle that still sat on the kitchen counter—like a snake wearing a joker's clothing.

He noticed more than she thought he did.

But if that was the case, then why couldn't he notice and realize that she didn't deserve what he had made her go through. She didn't deserve to be blamed on for everything and nothing, and to be in the receiving end of his biased, immense anger and hatred. Opposing thoughts fought against each other, and she felt the beginning of a horrid headache drumming inside her skull.

Getting tired of trying to figure out the reason and intention behind his action, Sofia grabbed the bottle of painkillers and strode up the stairs in search of that tall, confusing devil.

Debbie gave her the information earlier that Max had come home when the girl had just arrived. So that meant he was not home all night. Perhaps he had stayed at a friend's or somewhere, Sofia thought, considering how incredibly mad he was.

Sighing, she brought back her thoughts to the present. Because Max couldn't be found in the master bedroom, the room he had so outrageously dropped her in last night.

But he should be somewhere in the house.

So, she went on to searching all six rooms down the corridor.

She found him in the room right opposite the master bedroom, by the deep voice that resounded from the room's bathroom as she unceremoniously pushed the door open.

Ah, so, he was camping here.

She hesitated for a couple moments before nervously wrapping her knuckles on the wooden surface. And he came out of the bathroom in a long robe.

Seriously!

She had thought of Max as a towel wearer—like those cheeky, hunky heroes from movies, always ready to show off their assets. But that was not the case with him in real.

Who knew that the brute could be classic.

And he was talking on the phone.

The blasted man takes his phone in the shower as well. It must be waterproof. Sofia thought, unamused.

She overheard him saying,

"... no it can't be possible. Dad hasn't found the chance to talk to us family even, his schedule is really hectic over there in London..."

Sofia had to knock a second time to grab his attention.

"I don't need them," her voice was calm and collected as she spoke, but that was exactly the opposite of what she was feeling inside. And what she felt inside was a bloody endless amount of confusion and questions.

After muttering a hasty goodbye to whoever he was talking to, Max lowered his phone. He had just opened his mouth to say or ask something to her, but he was rendered speechless when, running out of patience, she began striding over to him.

It needed to be stated crystal clear that she didn't need any painkillers. Not from him.

Steeling herself she grabbed his wrist to thrust the bottle in his free hand. But she was in for a shock when he suddenly hissed when she did just that. It was right then she saw the knuckles—covered in painful looking red and blue bruises. The back of his hand looked a little swollen.

She frowned, "How—"

But cutting her off he yanked off his hand from her grasp, his face contorted with fury. The bottle flew off and crashed against the wall behind him before dropping to the floor and rolling away.

She was about to reach out again but then she registered the sneer on his face directed towards her. And she paused.

Just like her, even he didn't want anything from her.

Inwardly sighing she glanced to the side, just to not having to look at him anymore. And in her mind, like a light bulb—memory flashed of how he had punched into the wall beside her face last night.

Ah...

For a fact she knew it wouldn't be much of a nice idea mentioning last night. That would undoubtedly bring forth what she desperately wanted to leave behind at this moment—just for the sake of her own sanity, and there was also this chance he would try to dig into the wall yet again, this time with the remaining good hand.

What is the point of putting more suffering over the remaining lot.

At the end of the day she did not wish to hurt him just as she did not wish to hurt herself.

When she looked back at him, his sneer was dying down to careful disregard. He bent down to grasp the bottle which had just rolled to a stop near his feet.

What goes flying around, comes rolling around.

"You very much need them, Sofia," Max stated, looking unamused.

Sofia lifted her chin up, defiantly staring back at him. "No, I don't." She added after a deep breath, "It's the other way round, actually, you can see for yourself the condition of your blessed hand."

Max narrowed his eyes at her. "I've already taken the meds I need, but you did not."

"How can you tell that I did not? I know how to take care of myself," her tone was deadly firm.

She had just whirled around on her heels to leave, to finally put an end to this ridiculous argument, but Max was quick and swift as he walked round and stood between the door and her.

"Then why are you still limping around?" he challenged. "Why does your face crunch like a cabbage with every step you take?"

Sofia felt irked. "I'll bloody hell limp or bounce or swing around if I feel like. It has got nothing to do with you." she inhaled a long breath in an attempt to calm herself and decided to let go the cabbage bit, retorting to that might cause a more tiring, senseless and unnecessarily lengthy argument.

"You're still hurting from the... Mevil incident," his tone hardened at the mention of Mevil. "So stop being stubborn and take the medicine before I drag you to a damn hospital."

"Why are you freaking behaving like you care!" Sofia threw up her hands in exasperation. "When you and I both know that you don't."

If it was possible, Max's eyes turned further cold, further dark. It took him a moment to speak up but when he did, the words left Sofia feeling disappointed and sad.

Was she hoping that he would at least lie and say that he cared? How much more foolish could she get!

"Oh, I'm just merely protecting myself from being called a woman beater," Max said through pursed lips. "For people might raise questions and come to colorful conclusions seeing you limping around, sporting bruises around the throat, looking that pale and dead alike in the city. I've a reputation as a lawyer and I intend to keep it intact."

Sofia might have gaped at him in disbelief for a moment but she was quick to redeem her expression. "Then I would prefer wearing a poster around my neck saying 'my husband is an innocent lamb and not a woman beater' than accepting this from you." She pointed sharply at the pain killers. "So, go and caress your peeled knuckles rather than being an annoying bumble bee near my ear."

She stormed past him after that, but Max's voice made her halt before she could step foot out the door.

"Why are you so damn adamant on not taking the painkillers? Should I think that you're sadistically enjoying being hurt?"

"No." Sofia breathed, praying for more patience, her chest rose up slowly at the movement. She didn't turn around to look at Max as she said, "I'm just trying to not receive more pity from you Wilders. I would rather get painkillers tomorrow myself. And you do not need to worry about people calling you a woman beater, for in truth you are not. Besides I've been successful until this day making people, especially... my employees believe that I have tumbled down the stairs. That covered the limping. My other injuries stay nicely hidden as well, so don't bother, Max."

"Other injuries?"

Sofia heard his astounded voice behind. She exhaled a harsh breath, exasperated.

Of course, the lawyer in him would go freaking microscope on that little slip up only.

"And pity from the Wilders?! What—"

Wasn't it wonderful? He had managed to microscope out another information as well.

"Too late to ask that question you retard brute!" she snapped, cutting him in mid-sentence. And then, not waiting another second, stormed out the room, seething.

He had no right to ask her any question after all the damages that had been already done irreversibly, and she need not answer him.

He could choose to find out the truth or he could decide to live with his pile of misunderstandings, she bloody didn't care anymore. In the meantime, she was going to solely focus on her aim to free herself from the devious debt to the Wilders. And then, she would shove the divorce papers down Max's throat in order to free herself from all the ties that tethered her to him.

'Cause a cage could never be more comfortable than the limitless sky.

--

Sofia was glad that Max didn't follow her to the master bedroom. Speaking of the bedroom, she locked the door behind her and turned to glare at the room.

The luxury felt suffocating.

She would have to move out of here and to one of the other three guest rooms. Max was the owner of this house and it might bite her in the behind if she stayed in the master bedroom while the master of the house himself stayed in a guest bed.

She wouldn't stand or even provide that arrogant man a chance to taunt her, or demand she fall to his feet for his considerate self.

Hell would have to celebrate a snowy Christmas before that happened.

Sofia went to take a shower with that determination in her mind.

She came out wearing one of her old t-shirts. Even if she had forgotten to buy the painkillers, she hadn't forgotten to bring those few old clothes of her from her diner. One problem out of the way.

Collapsing on the bed finally, she sighed and closed her eyes.

The incredible exhaustion in her bones made sleep come quicker than she had expected. But unfortunate was the fact that, once again, it was filled with nightmares.

She was still screaming when she woke up with a jerk.

It was still dark outside, she noticed.

Blindly searching for her phone beside the pillow, she checked the time. She had just slept for three hours.

After that, till the sun rose, she lied wide awake and disgruntled on the massive bed that despite its softness and silky covers could offer her no sleep at all.

Sofia sat up, and all different kinds of new aches broke throughout her body. As if the old ones were not enough. For a moment—for a very brief moment, she regretted returning the painkillers Max had given her last night, no matter for his intention or the possible consequence.

And you're a hopeless cause, Sofia! She chastised herself and would have kicked her own behind if she could.

Grunting, she got ready in a long summer dress that smelled faintly of dust and something else. She should have taken care of these old clothes and not just stuffed them inside a carton carelessly. But then again, who knew she was going to get married like this and would need them desperately.

She sneezed and made a mental note to wash all these clothes after coming back from work today. Until then, what was she to do but to deal with this little inconvenience, just like she'd been doing with all the other situations of life at the moment.

She never was a great fan of being shackled by situations.

But life's got a savage way of making us deal with the things we hate the most, time and again.

Sofia didn't bother having breakfast before she set out of the house. There was one good thing about rising even before the sun, she could steer clear of Max—which she considered was a blessing.

It took three tries before her darling ambassador, gurgling and shuddering, at last, surged to life.

She set out to the road for her battle awaited her. And she set out in dusty clothes, hiding injuries, sporting unrest from nightmares more than the rest of sleep, while trying to subdue her vengeful feelings towards the husband that was left behind—peacefully sleeping in a world brimming with misconceptions only.

What had she ever done to deserve a marriage like this!