Sophia’s P.O.V

The door closed with a resounding bang, something that resembled a gunshot. I stood there—frozen—staring at that polished wooden frame like it had personally betrayed me. My breath hitched in my throat, my eyes wide, disbelieving, even though I had just witnessed it with my own two eyes. Tristan had taken her hand. Gabriella.

He’d looked right past me, right through me, as if I were nothing more than a ghost drifting through our home. And the way she ...