3. Sophie
SOPHIE
I stare out at the Manhattan skyline, the city lights twinkling like scattered stars, stretching endlessly into the night. It’s the same view I’ve woken up to—and fallen asleep to—for years. It used to make me feel alive, like I was part of something bigger, part of a world that never stopped moving. But tonight, it feels like I’m just watching it from the outside.
The penthouse is quiet, the hum of the city muffled by the thick glass windows. My planner sits open on the bed beside me, each square crammed with appointments, deadlines, and endless tasks. Usually, it’s my pride and joy, proof that I’m in control, that I’ve built a life where I’m the one calling the shots.
But right now, it feels like a weight pressing down on my chest.
I close the planner and toss it onto the nightstand, rubbing my temples. The emails and calls can wait. Everything can stay just for a few minutes.
My phone buzzes on the bed, and I grab it without thinking, expecting to see another message from a client about a last- minute change. Instead, it’s Ethan, my cousin turned soon-to-be groom.
Riley picked the color scheme today—dusty blue and gold. It’s coming together!
I can’t help but smile as I picture Ethan, probably grinning ear to ear, so excited about his wedding that he can’t help but keep me updated on every little detail. I type a quick reply.
Sounds perfect. Dusty blue is a good choice.
His response comes almost immediately.
You’re going to love it, Soph. The whole thing is going to be incredible.
The knot in my chest loosens a little. Ethan’s optimism is infectious, even over text. For the first time all day, I feel a little lighter.
I set my phone down and lean back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Bardstown. It’s been years since I’ve been back. I left that town with a one-way ticket and the determination never to look back.
And I didn’t, not for a long time.
I built the life I wanted here—successful, busy, and full of accomplishments. I used to dream about these things when I was a teenager stuck in Bardstown, feeling like the world was passing me by. I should be proud of everything I’ve done and built.
But instead, I feel… tired.
The planner on the nightstand catches my eye. Its neatly packed squares remind me of how tightly wound my life has become. Every moment is accounted for, and every day is planned to the minute.
I swing my legs off the bed and wander to the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. The city is beautiful, vibrant, and alive. But it’s also relentless. For the first time in years, I wonder if stepping away wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Ethan’s wedding is in three months. It’s the kind of event that Bardstown thrives on—big enough to bring everyone together, small enough to feel personal. Maybe I could use it as an excuse. A change of scenery, a reason to slow down, even just for a little while.
I haven’t thought about Bardstown in years. But now, the memories come rushing back—sun-drenched afternoons at the park, the smell of fresh-baked bread from the corner bakery, the quiet hum of crickets on summer nights.
It wasn’t all bad.
I close my eyes, letting the thought settle. Could I really go back? Not just for the wedding, but for a bit longer? I’ve spent so much time convincing myself there’s nothing left for me there, but maybe I’ve been wrong.
The thought feels fragile, like it might break apart if I poke at it too much.
I grab my phone again and scroll through my calendar. I could wrap up most of my projects in a month, hand off the smaller ones to Claire, and clear my schedule for a few weeks.
It wouldn’t be running away. It would be… a reset.
Maybe Bardstown isn’t home anymore, but it could be a place to rest.
I’m still staring out at the skyline, turning the idea of Bardstown repeatedly in my head, when my phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Mia’s name flashing across the screen.
I swipe to answer. “Mia,” I say with a smile, settling back onto the bed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” My sister only calls when she wants to rant about something or give me hot gossip.
“Sophie, hey,” she says, her tone bright and warm. “Got a minute? I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“Sure,” I reply, stretching out and propping a pillow behind my back. “What’s up?”
“Well, first of all, I need to know something,” she begins, and I can already hear the teasing lilt in her voice. “How much would it cost us to have the famous Sophie Davis plan Ethan and Riley’s wedding?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Mia, come on. You know I don’t charge family.”
“I know that, and I was only joking,” she replies. “Even though, with your track record, you could probably turn Ethan’s wedding into the event of the decade.”
I roll my eyes, but her words spark a flicker of something—an idea, maybe. “I’m guessing Riley’s already doing a great job planning, though. She seems pretty organized. Ethan says she already picked the color scheme.”
“She is doing a great job, but we might need someone more professional. You know, trained for the job,” Mia admits. “Between running the hardware store and handling all these wedding details, I think it’s starting to wear on her. She’s going to be so stressed before her big day, and we don’t want that, do we?”
“Absolutely not,” I say, smiling to myself. Mia would never take no for an answer, and I should have known she was up to something when I answered her call.
I let her words settle, my gaze drifting back to the planner on the nightstand. She’s right, though—I’ve been needing a change, something to shake up the routine I’ve built here in Manhattan. Maybe Bardstown could be the break I didn’t realize I needed.
“I’ll think about what you’re offering,” I say finally.
“But I didn’t even say anything yet,” she teases.
“Oh, you don’t have to.” My sister thinks she’s sly, but she’s not.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Besides, I’ve missed you, and Sam is scheduled to return from his honeymoon any day now!” The thought of seeing my brother and sister isn’t so bad. Plus, I would finally meet Emma, Sam’s wife, in person, and Riley, too. There’s only so many ways we can connect over video chats.
I sigh, but a smile tugs at my lips. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Never,” she says proudly. “Seriously now, though, don’t wear yourself out too much over there, okay? I have to go. Love you”
“Love you too.”
“Bye, Soph!”
The call ends, leaving me staring at the screen.
I shake my head, setting the phone down as I glance back at the Manhattan skyline. Bardstown. It’s been years since I left, but maybe—just maybe—it’s time to go back.
The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside my windows. Her words replay in my mind—encouraging, persuasive, laced with just enough sisterly charm to make me consider something I’ve avoided for nearly a decade.
Bardstown.
I shake my head and turn my attention to my laptop, determined to focus. Work always has a way of grounding me, giving me something to latch onto when my thoughts start to spiral. I pull up my itinerary for tomorrow, scanning through the meetings, calls, and venue walkthroughs.
It’s a packed schedule, as usual. A morning meeting with a client notorious for changing her mind, followed by a two-hour walkthrough at the Preston engagement venue. Then there’s the gala pitch in the evening, the one I’ve been preparing for weeks.
I sigh, leaning forward to make a few adjustments. My fingers move quickly over the keys, but my mind keeps drifting back to Mia’s call. To Bardstown. To the life I left behind.
A notification pops up on the screen, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a memory from my cloud storage, dated almost ten years ago. Curious, I click on it, and a video begins to play.
It’s shaky and was filmed on an old phone that didn’t care much about resolution. The sound is muffled, but I can still make out the laughter.
I see myself first—younger, freer, with my hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. I’m sitting on the edge of a dock, dangling my feet in the water. Ethan is next to me, tossing rocks into the lake with all the precision of a kid determined to make the perfect splash. It’s one of those holidays where his parents dropped him off at Bardstown to be with us. Those holidays always turned out to be the best.
The camera pans, and there’s my sister, holding up her phone, grinning as she shouts, “Sam! Get in here!”
My brother comes into view, shirtless and dripping wet from the lake. His hair is plastered to his forehead, and he’s grinning that boyish, carefree grin that made everyone love him. He’s holding up a fish—a tiny one, barely worth the effort—but the pride on his face is enough to send all of us into fits of laughter.
“Best fisherman in Bardstown!” he declares, holding the fish aloft like a trophy.
“More like the only fisherman in Bardstown,” I tease, splashing water at him with my foot.
Mia laughs behind the camera. “I’m sending this to everyone!”
“No, you’re not!” Ethan yells, leaping up to grab the phone. The screen tilts wildly as they wrestle for it, the laughter growing louder until the video cuts out abruptly.
I sit back, staring at the frozen frame.
It’s been years since I’ve seen this. Years since, I’ve thought about that day, about how simple and perfect it was. And then I left.
I left Bardstown and everything that made it feel like home. I told myself I was chasing something bigger, something better. And maybe I was. But watching this, I can’t help but feel like I left behind more than I gained.
I close the laptop and stand, pacing the room as the emotions swirl inside me. It’s not just about Sam, or Ethan, or even Mia’s call. It’s about everything I’ve been feeling lately—the restlessness, the exhaustion, the gnawing sense that something’s missing.
Bardstown won’t fix everything, but it’s a start. A place to breathe. A place to feel something again.
I glance at my planner, the pages neatly filled with tasks and deadlines. For the first time, it doesn’t feel like a lifeline. It feels like a cage.
I don’t think so. I grab my phone and dial my assistant’s number.
“Claire,” I say when she answers. “Clear my schedule for the next three months.”
She hesitates. “Three months? Sophie, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, and for the first time in a long time, I mean it. “I just need a break.”
After the call, I sit on the edge of my bed, staring out at the city one last time. The skyline is as beautiful as ever, but it doesn’t hold the same magic tonight. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to continue all of my work from Bardstown, but I’ll make it work. I need this break. My body, mind, and soul are begging for it, so I will do just that.
It’s time to go back home.
T he days pass in a whirlwind of decisions, to-do lists, and packing. My penthouse, usually so polished and pristine, now looks like a tornado tore through it. Open suitcases lie scattered across the floor, overflowing with everything I might need for Bardstown: casual clothes, a few professional pieces (just in case), and enough skincare products to survive an apocalypse.
I fold a soft cashmere sweater and set it in one of the suitcases, pausing as I glance around the room. The view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows is just as breathtaking as ever, but it doesn’t pull at me the way it used to.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling me from my thoughts. I grab it and see Mia’s name flashing across the screen.
“Hey,” I answer, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear as I zip up one of the smaller bags.
“Hey, Soph,” Mia says, her voice bright. “Just wanted to check in and see if you’ve booked your flight yet.”
“First class, of course,” I reply, grinning as I toss a pair of shoes into another suitcase. “I leave Thursday morning.”
“Perfect,” she says. “I’ll be at the airport to pick you up. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“Thanks,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re doing the hard part,” she says, her tone softening. “Coming back after all this time will be good for you, Soph. I know it.”
I let out a small sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” she teases.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I’ll see you Thursday.”
“See you soon,” she says before hanging up.
Thursday comes faster than expected, and by the time I’m zipping up the last suitcase, I feel excitement and nervousness swirling in my chest as I think about Bardstown. I grab my phone and quickly dial Claire.
“Hello, Claire. Have you thoroughly planned my itinerary for the next three months? I’ve been expecting an email from you.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m waiting for confirmation from a few other clients before fine-tuning everything, but with your schedule, I think working from Bardstown for the next three months shouldn’t be too much of a hassle,” Claire says as I nod.
“That’s great news. I expect to receive the email very soon. I need to plan on my end, too.”
“Definitely. And have a safe trip,” she says as I smile.
“Thank you, Claire.” I end the call.
I grab my carry-on and wheel it toward the door, taking one last look around the penthouse. The sunlight streams through the windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. For years, this space has been my sanctuary, the place where I built my life, my career, and my identity.
But now, as I stand in the doorway, it feels like a chapter ready to close.
“See you in three months,” I say softly, my voice echoing in the empty room. I pause, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
I pull the door shut behind me, the finality of the sound settling over me like a weight lifting. It’s not goodbye, not really. But it’s enough to feel like a step forward.
“Good morning, Sophie.” The doorman greets me downstairs with a smile as he helps me load my luggage into the waiting car. “It feels like you’re leaving us for a while this time.”
I laugh. “Not really. It’s just a well-deserved short break. Trust me, I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I will miss you.” He smiles. Gary has been working here for almost four years. He’s considerate and well-spoken, and that’s just the kind of person I like dealing with.
“You saying that makes me want to cancel my flight,” I respond, placing a hand on my chest to be dramatic.
Gary puts the last of my suitcases in the car and nods. “All set. Have a lovely trip.”
“I will. Thank you.”
I slip into the backseat, the soft leather cool against my skin, and let out a slow breath. The city rushes past as the car heads toward the airport, the familiar sights blurring into one another. The car pulls up to the terminal, and I step out, squaring my shoulders as I grab my carry-on.
Bardstown, here I come.