"Sofia?"
Tristan froze the moment he opened the door. His voice cracked with shock—and something heavier. Guilt.
He was Adam's best friend. And yet here she was, standing on his doorstep like a ghost of the woman she used to be. Pale. Fragile. Her shoulders drawn in as if the world had taken everything from her—and maybe it had.
But there was something else beneath the devastation in her eyes. A flicker of something he couldn't quite name. Was it hope? Or was it the final glow before a flame died out?
"Aren't you going to let me in, Tristan?" Her voice was quiet. Steady. Too steady.
He managed a faint smile. "Of course. Come in. I... I didn't expect you at this hour."
"I'm sorry I didn't call or text beforehand," she said as she stepped inside. "This isn't something I could explain over the phone."
He led her to the living room in silence, still trying to catch up to the storm she brought in with her.
"Coffee?" he offered out of habit.
