He wanted—no, needed—to kiss Sofia. The urge burned in him, tangled with all the words that had never left his lips. So many things remained unsaid between them, and Adam wasn't even sure if now was the right time to speak them aloud. She had filed for divorce—he knew that—and yet here she was, standing in his house again. That alone unraveled him.
What unsettled him most wasn't the confusion or the unanswered questions, but the quiet truth hiding beneath them: he had been hoping for this. Hoping she would come back. Hoping she would still choose to be near him, even if she had every reason to hate him. He didn't want her to leave, not again, not when he'd already felt the emptiness of her absence.
And yet, he knew the damage he'd done. He had hurt her, and no amount of longing could erase that. If she despised him, he had no right to argue. But wanting her here... wanting her to stay... was a selfishness he couldn't seem to let go of.
