The apartment greeted Sophia with its usual silence.
Clean lines. Soft lighting. The faint hum of the air system filtering through rooms that never gathered dust. Everything in its place. Everything controlled.
She set her bag down on the marble countertop, her keys landing with a soft clink beside it.
The sound echoed.
For a moment, she just stood there, coat still draped over her shoulders, staring at nothing in particular.
Then she exhaled—slow, deliberate—and slipped the coat off, hanging it neatly by the door.
The city stretched beyond her floor-to-ceiling windows, glowing in shades of amber and violet as the sun dipped lower.
Traffic moved in distant ribbons of light.
Life, endless and indifferent, carried on below.
Sophia walked to the window, arms crossed loosely over her chest.
She should feel relieved.
The meeting with her father had gone smoothly. He'd believed her. He'd even smiled—something rare these days.
And Marissa… well, Marissa would have to back off now.
At least, that's what she told herself.
But relief wasn't what she felt.
Instead, there was something else. Something quieter. Heavier.
Guilt.
No—not guilt. Guilt implied regret.
This was more like… unease.
She turned away from the window and moved toward her home office, a sleek space tucked into the corner of the apartment.
Her laptop sat open on the desk, files waiting. Patient reports. Budget reviews. A presentation she'd been drafting for weeks.
Work. That always helped.
She sat down, fingers poised over the keyboard.
But they didn't move.
Her mind drifted, uninvited, back to the conversation.
"I'm already seeing someone."
The words had come out so easily. Too easily.
She'd lied before—small things, harmless things. White lies to spare someone's feelings or to sidestep an uncomfortable conversation. But this?
This was different.
This was deliberate.
Sophia leaned back in her chair, eyes closing briefly.
She could still see her father's face. The surprise. The quiet joy that had flickered across his features.
He'd been proud.
And she'd built that pride on nothing.
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced at it.
**Marissa.**
Of course.
The message was short, direct:
"Your father told me the wonderful news. I'd love to meet them. Dinner this week?"
Sophia stared at the screen.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Then she set the phone down, face-up, and let it sit there.
She didn't reply.
Not yet.
Instead, she stood, pacing slowly across the room. Her fingers trailed along the edge of her desk, the cool surface grounding her.
What was she supposed to do now?
Introduce someone who didn't exist?
Confess the lie and face her stepmother's smug satisfaction?
Neither option felt tolerable.
Her mind, sharp and methodical as always, began running through possibilities. Scenarios. Solutions.
She could fabricate an excuse—say they were traveling, or busy, or not ready to meet the family yet.
But Marissa wouldn't let it go. She never did.
The woman had a way of pressing until something cracked.
Sophia's jaw tightened.
She moved back to the window, arms folded again, gaze distant.
And then, without meaning to, she thought of her.
Jane.
The name surfaced quietly, like a breath.
Sophia blinked.
Why was she thinking about her?
It wasn't logical. They'd spoken twice—briefly. Politely. Nothing more than passing encounters.
And yet…
There was something about her.
Something steady. Honest. Unpolished in a way that felt refreshing rather than careless.
The way she'd looked at Sophia in the café—not with awe or intimidation, but with something softer. Curiosity, maybe. Or recognition.
Like she saw past the surface.
Sophia's fingers curled slightly against her arm.
She shook her head, as if to clear the thought.
This was ridiculous.
Jane was a stranger. A part-time worker at a café. Someone passing through her life for a moment, nothing more.
And yet…
Sophia's phone buzzed again.
Another message from Marissa.
"Let me know what works for you both. I'm flexible."
Flexible. Right.
Sophia picked up the phone, staring at the words.
Her thumb moved, typing slowly.
"I'll check with them and get back to you."
She hit send before she could second-guess it.
Then she set the phone down again, this time face-down.
The apartment felt quieter now. Too quiet.
She returned to her desk, opening a patient file at random. Her eyes scanned the text, but nothing registered.
Her mind was elsewhere.
On a conversation she'd have to have.
On a lie she'd have to maintain.
On a girl with messy hair and careful hands who made latte art she didn't mean to.
Sophia closed the file.
Leaned back.
And stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, she'd figure it out.
Tomorrow, she'd find a solution.
But tonight?
Tonight, she just sat in the silence, letting the weight of her own words settle around her like a coat she couldn't take off.
"I'm already seeing someone."
The lie lingered.
And somewhere, in the back of her mind, so did the image of kind eyes and a quiet smile.
The night deepened.
The city lights blurred into soft halos beyond the glass.
And Sophia, for once, didn't have an answer.