The Indifferent Ex-Husband Heartstrings in the Mall of Fate

Kent and Don also caught sight of Brandon cutting through the water towards the opposite bank, and they spotted the scarf

tangled on a branch stretching into the river. Their faces changed in unison.

Sophia had been wearing that scarf when she left yesterday. Both Kent and Don were too worried about Marian to care; they

dashed towards the riverbank, their faces tense.

Marian, a bit clueless, followed them on autopilot.

Brandon had reached the other side of the river, his eyes locked on the partially dried scarf on the branch, veins in his neck

bulging.

It was indeed Sophia's scarf; the light-colored logo had caught on something that morning, causing a thread to cloose, which

was now swaying gently in the breeze.

"Kent!" Brandon called out without turning his head, his voice cold and firm, "Get the cops and the rescue team here, pronto! Tell

them to search this area thoroughly."

"Got it," Kent replied urgently, whipping out his phone to make the call.

"Don, get someone to check every village around here; don't miss a single one," Brandon ordered next.

Don nodded, "Okay."

Marian, who had followed them to the riverbank, also noticed the scarf hanging on the branch and Brandon's intense gaze. Her

face changed subtly, and she looked around instinctively, but there was nothing to see.

Sophia's body was nowhere to be found.

Brandon didn't look up; he didn't even dare to. His hands, submerged in the water, clenched unconsciously, fingers digging into his

flesh unaware, his eyes glued to the scarf that was half-submerged, half-dangling; he didn’t move an inch.

If the scarf had drifted here before catching on the branch, considering the river's current, Sophia would have had no chance of

survival.

A chill ran through his body again, his heart and lungs felt frozen, each breath was heart-wrenchingly painful, and his mind buzzed

with emptiness.

Even though he knew rationally that if someone fell into the river and wasn't rescued in time, the chances of survival were slim; as

long as the person wasn't found, he could convince himself that Sophia had been saved, that she was just injured and couldn't

contact him yet.

But the appearance of the scarf knocked him back down into the abyss.

Brandon didn't know how long he'd been staring at the water, at the scarf, until the surrounding noise grew louder with the arrival

of the rescue team and police. Only then did he manage to stiffly turn his neck to look at them.

The police had begun to investigate the area based on where the scarf was found, and the search and rescue team had joined the

search urgently.

Kent, too, had crossed over on a rescue boat with dry clothes for Brandon.

"Mr. Crawley, you should change out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold at this critical moment," he murmured into

Brandon's ear, his heart aching at the sight of his dazed expression.

This time, Brandon didn't argue. He silently got on the boat, changed into the dry clothes Kent had handed him, but he didn't

leave.

From morning till night, from the sun at its zenith to the moonrise, as darkness enveloped them again, Brandon stood, watching

the rescue operations, as motionless as stone.

He hadn't eaten or drunk anything all day.

The police and rescue team had combed the surrounding waters, land, and villages, but found no clues related to Sophia.

By 1 a.m., when everyone was asleep and the wind and rain had picked up, the chance of being rescued was next to nothing.

It was impossible to tell whether the scarf had floated there on its own or if Sophia had been swept to that spot.

Throughout the day, despite the tempting reward Brandon offered, no one cforward with any leads.

Based on the location, the lack of cries for help, and the time, everyone believed Sophia had been swept out to sea. Looking for

someone in the ocean was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Online, a couple of so-called fortune-tellers who claimed to be incredibly accurate couldn't resist doing readings for Sophia, but the

results were grim.

"Mr. Crawley, let's head back," Kent said softly, looking at the sky, which was slowly starting to rain again, and the darkness around

them.

Brandon didn't move, and just whispered hoarsely, "You go back first; | want to stay a bit longer."

Kent had no choice but to turn to Don for help, who could only shake his head helplessly, telling Kent to go ahead while he stayed

behind to watch.

Kent nodded, dragging Marian, who was still reluctant to leave, away with him.

Brandon turned to gaze out at the vast sea.

The night wind whipped the waves against the shore, as powerful surges rolled into the narrow river mouth, creating more

ferocious waves before being sucked back into the sea, pushed into its depths.

Watching the waves crash against the shore, imagining Sophia's delicate and petite body being swept lonely and helpless into the

depths of the sea, a sharp pain stabbed his heart again, bending him over with agony, nearly crippling him.

From a distance, Don watched Brandon like this, his heart aching terribly, feeling powerless, only able to watch him use the roar of

the waves to drown out his pain.

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