6. Sophie
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Sophie
Four days later, I have a job.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not even interesting. It’s stocking shelves and working a register at the grocery store six blocks from Alexa’s apartment, and it pays barely above minimum wage, and my feet hurt so much by the end of my shift that I want to cry.
But it’s mine. Money I earned, independence I’m building, a future I’m creating for me and Anna that doesn’t depend on anyone else.
Especially not Caleb.
I’m walking out of the store, rubbing my aching lower back, when a familiar voice stops me cold.
“Sophie.”
I turn.
Caleb’s standing by a black car, dressed in slacks and a button-down like he’s just come from the hospital, looking exactly like the perfect husband I used to think he was. His expression is soft. Concerned. Nothing like the man who tried to hit me four days ago.
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out flat, but my heart’s racing. I glance around, looking for witnesses, exits, anything.
“I came to talk.” He takes a step toward me, hands raised like he’s approaching a wild animal. “That’s all. I just want to talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“We have everything to talk about.” Another step. “Sophie, please. I know I scared you the other night. I know I was out of line. But you have to understand - I was hurt. You left me. You took our daughter. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“So you almost hit me because you weren’t thinking straight.”
“It was a moment of weakness.” His voice cracks, and if I didn’t know better, I’d believe the pain in it. “I’ve never done anything like that before. It’ll never happen again. I swear.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Sophie-”
“I saw who you really are.” My hands are clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “When that mask dropped. When you grabbed me. When you told me I was nothing. That’s the real Caleb. Everything else was just a performance.”
His expression flickers. Just for a second, that cold darkness surfaces before he smooths it away. But I saw it. I know what’s underneath now.
“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” he says, and the way he says it makes my skin crawl. “I’ve always loved that about you.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell you how I feel?” He reaches out, touches my face, and I flinch back so hard I nearly trip. “Sophie, you’re my wife. The mother of my child. You can’t seriously think I’m going to let you go that easily.”
“I’m not something you get to keep or let go.” I step back, putting more distance between us. “I’m a person. I get to make my own choices. And I choose to be done with you.”
“You don’t know what you’re choosing.” His voice hardens, just a little.
Just enough. “You’re tired and stressed and you’re not thinking clearly.
Come home with me. I’ll take care of you.
Both of you. You won’t have to work at-” he glances at the store behind me with barely concealed disgust “-this place.”
“I’d rather work ten jobs than spend another day with you.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I mean every word.”
We stare at each other, and I can see him calculating. Figuring out his next move. Deciding which mask to wear.
“Fine.” He steps back, and the concerned husband act snaps back into place. “I understand. You need time. But Anna’s still my daughter, and I have rights. I’ll be in touch, Sophie. Soon.”
He walks back to his car, and I don’t move until he’s driven away. Even then, my legs feel like they might give out beneath me.
He’s not going to stop. He’s never going to stop. He’s going to keep coming back, keep pushing, keep trying to break me down until I give him what he wants.
And I don’t even know what that is anymore. Me? Anna? Or just the satisfaction of winning?
I start walking toward home, blinking back tears, refusing to let them fall where anyone might see. I’m so focused on keeping it together that I almost miss the figure waiting in the apartment building’s lobby.
Dominic.
He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking like he’s been waiting for something. For someone.
For me?
Our eyes meet, and his expression changes. Darkens. He pushes off the wall and moves toward me, and I’m suddenly very aware of how disheveled I must look. Hair escaping my ponytail. Mascara probably smudged. Tear tracks that I thought I’d hidden but apparently haven’t.
“Who made you cry?”
The question is blunt, sharp, demanded rather than asked. Like he has the right to know. Like whoever did it has personally offended him.
“No one.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“So I’ve been told.” I swipe at my cheeks, trying to erase the evidence. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
He steps closer. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I can smell him again - cedar and warmth and something that makes my stomach flip.
“Tell me,” he says, and his voice is low, rough, the kind of voice that makes promises it has every intention of keeping. “Tell me who did this.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
The words hang between us, loaded with meaning I don’t know how to interpret. Why does it matter to him? Why does he care? We’ve known each other for four days. He brought me groceries and held my baby and looked at me like-
Like he’s looking at me now.
Like I’m something worth protecting.
“My ex-husband showed up at my job,” I hear myself say. “He wanted to talk. To convince me to come back. I said no.”
Dominic’s jaw tightens. His hands, which were loose at his sides, curl into fists.
“Did he touch you?”
“My face. Just for a second. I pulled away.”
Something flashes in his eyes. Something dangerous.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” I say quickly. “I handled it. He left.”
“This time.”
“This time,” I agree. “But I can’t just hide forever. I need to work. I need to provide for Anna. I can’t let him control my life by being afraid to leave the apartment.”
Dominic looks at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eases. His fists unclench.
“You shouldn’t have to face him alone,” he says.
“I know. But I don’t have a lot of options.”
“You have more than you think.”
Before I can ask what he means, he’s stepping back, creating distance between us. The moment - whatever it was - breaks.
“If anyone hurts you,” he says, and his voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear it, “I want to know.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer. Just watches me with those dark, unreadable eyes.
“Why do you care?” I press. “You don’t know me. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Maybe I just want to.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
We stand there, the lobby silent around us, and I feel like I’m on the edge of something. A cliff. A choice. A moment that could change everything if I let it.
I’m not ready to let it. Not yet.
“I should go,” I say, stepping toward the elevator. “Alexa’s watching Anna, and I’ve been gone all day.”
“Sophie.”
I stop, hand on the elevator button.
“If he comes back,” Dominic says, “call me.”
“I don’t have your number.”
He crosses to me, takes my phone from my hand before I can process the movement, and types something in. His fingers brush mine when he hands it back, and I feel it everywhere.
“Now you do.”
Then he walks away, disappearing down the stairwell, and I’m left staring at my phone like it’s a live grenade.
Dominic, the contact says. Just that. No last name. No emoji. Nothing to indicate that this man has become, against all odds, the steadiest presence in my increasingly chaotic life.
I get in the elevator and press the button for Alexa’s floor.
My heart doesn’t stop racing until I’m inside the apartment, Anna in my arms, the door locked behind me.
Even then, I can still feel the ghost of his fingers against mine.
***
That night, I can’t sleep.
I keep thinking about the way Dominic looked at me. The fury in his voice when he asked who made me cry. The way his hands curled into fists at the mention of Caleb touching my face.
It shouldn’t mean anything. He’s just a protective person. Some people are like that.
But the way my heart raced when he stood close to me… that wasn’t just gratitude.
And that terrifies me.
I’ve known this man for four days. My marriage ended less than a week ago. I have a baby and no job security and an ex-husband who’s clearly not going to leave me alone.
The last thing I need is feelings.
But as I lie in the dark, Anna’s soft breathing the only sound in the room, I can’t stop thinking about him.
About the way he said my name. Like it mattered. Like I mattered.
About the way he looked at Anna. Gentle despite all his sharp edges.
About the way he looked at me.
You have more options than you think.
What did he mean by that?
I reach for my phone, scroll to his name in my contacts, and stare at it.
I could text him. Thank him again for earlier. Ask what he meant.
But that would be starting something. Opening a door I’m not sure I’m ready to walk through.
I put the phone down.
Then I pick it up again.
Then I put it down.
“Get it together, Sophie,” I mutter to myself. “You’re a grown woman. You can handle one attractive neighbor.”
But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie.
Dominic Rath isn’t just attractive. He’s a mystery. A complication. A temptation I can’t afford.
And somehow, despite everything, I want him anyway.