Alex . . I stood in front of the mirror in the middle of my closet, buttoning up my white dress shirt. Memories of last night flooded my mind—Sophie had been in my arms. A smile crept onto my lips, a fluttering feeling crawling beneath my skin as I remembered her touch, her warmth, and her scent. But the smile morphed into a grimace as I also recalled Mia attacking her this morning. My stomach knotted as I remembered the chaos I was still in. "Sir Alex, Mr. Benjamin just arrived," Alma's voice interrupted. "Thank you, Alma," I replied, finishing the last button on my shirt. Moments later, Benjamin's voice echoed through the room. "Alex." Emerging from the closet, I tossed my black suit and waistcoat onto the bed. "I thought we were meeting at my office," I remarked. "You know I have a company to run," Benjamin retorted, about to prop his leg on the wooden frame before changing his mind. I smiled, picking up the waistcoat from the bed. Benjamin ran one of the largest cybersec
Sophie . . I walked into the fifth artisan store. At 10 a.m., yet my body was weak and tired from moving about, hoping to find this piece. I had no idea why Mr. Beckham was so persistent about this particular item, and I wasn’t bold enough to tell him I couldn’t get it. I just can’t afford to look incompetent. "Excuse me," I said, showing the man behind the counter the design—a black wooden moon with curved lines carved in it. "Do you have anything like this?" He glanced at it briefly before shaking his head. "No, we don't." Disappointment pierced my heart. I asked, "Do you know any other store that might?" He sighed and shook his head again. "Sorry, I don't. This design isn’t a popular one." “Thank you.” I smiled and left the shop. Slipping into my car, my phone rang—it was Luca. “Hey,” I said immediately after I picked up, trying to brighten my voice. “How’s your search going?” Luca questioned. Exhaling heavily, I responded, “Not great.” I massaged my forehead. “They sai
Sophie . . My phone ringtone played an alarm, waking me up from the sweet arms of sleep. My hand blindly fumbled the bed for my phone, and when it found it, it brought it to my face. “Hey, Romi.” I yawned soon after picking up the call. “Mia has started again. She just set a meeting by 7:30,” she uttered, frustration pinching her voice. “What?” I jolted up. I glanced at my phone—7 a.m. “Why would she do that? And Mr.Beckham?” A little grunt escaped Romi. "Mr. Beckham doesn’t give a fuck what she does as long as she brings the fashion show to his hotel.” She added. “I’ll be on my way.” I ended the call and sprang up. A sudden wave of dizziness forced me back onto the bed. I shut my eyes and massaged my head for a few seconds before springing up and heading to the bathroom. Sitting here and dealing with morning sickness wouldn't help. I had fallen asleep in my clothes last night after getting home very late—probably around 11. I was so tired, I hadn't even bothered to change.
ALEX . . I popped the detoxifying pills into my mouth, gulped down water from the plastic bottle, and placed it back on my office desk before settling on the sofa across from Benjamin. “Still thinking about Sophie?” Benjamin asked. I snorted with a smile. “Is it that obvious?” It had been three days since she spent the night in our room, and I still couldn’t shake the memory. It was engraved in my mind. But I still couldn’t reach her, and that created a speck of uneasiness in my happiness. “I’m no savior, but,” Benjamin said, reaching into his suit pocket and drawing out a piece of paper, “I was able to get her new number.” He handed it over. My eyes glinted with joy as I leaned in and took the paper from him. “How did you get it?” “I’m not running a cybersecurity company for nothing,” he replied. I dialed the number, and my heart rate hiked as it began to ring. When she didn’t pick up, I decided to send her a message. Unlike the other number I had, the tick doubled. With
Sophie . . The sun had begun its descent, its orange hue casting shades on the art pieces in the studio through the big windows. After work, I decided to focus on a personal project.but took a break because I was tired. I brought out a medium-sized pack of chips and began to munch on it. I was advised to stay away from junk food, but with my strong cravings, I just couldn’t resist it. The door opened, and as I turned, my eyes fell on Alex. His tall frame walked in, clad in army green short-sleeve knitwear and black trousers. His presence filled the room with a warmth that always made my heart flutter. Hiding my admiration beneath a frown, I dropped the pack of chips and rose to my feet. “What are you doing here?” He dipped his hands in his pockets and began to pace around the studio. He picked up a small white ceramic vase from the top of the cabinet, close to the windows. “Do you remember this vase?” I rolled my eyes at his question. He obviously knew that I remembered the v
Sophie . . In one corner of my room, I sat, the light of the laptop illuminating my face as I worked on it, making a few changes in some designs as requested by Mr. Beckham. Alex’s words suddenly broke into my mind. "I'll never forget you, Sophie. You're stuck with me." They brought both a pang of bittersweet nostalgia and a sharp twist of confusion to my heart. I sighed. Why was he so stubborn? Why couldn’t he just let me be? A knock on the door captured my attention. “Ms. Sophie, are you ready to eat now?” Paula, Luca’s chef, questioned from the other side of the door. “No, thank you,” I replied, although my stomach protested a little. Luca had notified me he would be late, advising me to eat without him, but the tightness in my chest had swallowed any appetite I could have. Rising to my feet, I headed to bed with my phone clutched in my hand. After Alex had left me this evening, I thought that would be it. I was surprised to still get a message from him checking up on m
Alex . . In my office, I sat with my eyes fixed on my phone screen. Two days had passed, and the tick hadn’t doubled—let alone turned blue. I had attempted to call, but the call wasn’t going through. “Do you think she has a new number?” I questioned, my gaze shifting back to Benjamin. “If she did, I can get it,” Benjamin reassured, casually toying with the strands of his beard. "Now, can we concentrate?” He quickly added. I dropped my phone on the table between me and Benjamin. Benjamin had been occupied with work, so we hadn’t had a chance to meet, and some conversations are just better had in person. I recounted my confrontation with Mia to him. Benjamin nodded his head attentively. “So she reacted but denied it,” he reiterated. “Now the question is, why?” I spread on the sofa. “I can’t just seem to wrap my head around it.” With a quick motion, I swirled my fingers in the air. Confronting her would do no good; she would also deny it. I pinched my nasal bridge as
Sophie . . The meeting had been going on for probably two hours. My concentration faltered as a nauseous feeling brewed in my stomach—the dizziness that constantly struck me. Romi leaned in. “Are you okay?” She whispered. “You look sick,” she stated. “I am alright; I just didn’t get enough sleep,” I responded. Although I had had more than ten hours of sleep, I still couldn’t help but feel tired. “What did you do that kept you up all night on a Monday night?” Romi whispered her question. “Were you being naughty with Alex?” She teased. My heart skipped. I hadn’t told her about the divorce or anything. While Romi was away, she was dealing with her own issues, and I didn’t want to bother her. Mr. Beckham cleared his throat, drawing our attention back to the projection screen. We adjusted and leaned back. Mia’s strong cologne entered the office, intensifying my nausea. Mr. Beckham narrowed his eyes. “You are late.” With a gentle voice, she responded, “I’m so sorry