The garage door rolled open with a low mechanical hum, echoing into the still night. Sophia turned off the ignition and sat in her car for a moment longer than necessary.
The silence wrapped around her like a thin shawl—present, but offering no warmth.
With a slow exhale, she stepped out, heels softly tapping against the floor.
The night had cooled down, a breeze brushing past her cheek as she locked the car and made her way to the front door.
The house welcomed her in its usual way—dim, perfectly tidy, sterile almost.
No misplaced shoes. No murmurs of a television.
No cluttered warmth. Just polished furniture and cold surfaces that didn't quite feel like home.
She slipped off her heels at the entryway, placing them precisely next to each other. Her coat followed, draped neatly on the stand.
As she passed through the hallway, she flicked on a light, and soft golden tones spilled across the marble floors.
Sophia paused in the kitchen. Her hand rested on the edge of the counter as she looked around, almost waiting for something—anything. A sound. A reason to stay in this space a little longer.
"But the silence answered back. Only her."
With a tired sigh, she opened the fridge, stared inside, then closed it again. She wasn't hungry.
Instead, she poured herself a glass of water and leaned back against the island, sipping slowly.
Her thoughts began to wander—back to the restaurant, the suffocating conversation, her stepmother's perfectly veiled manipulation.
And then, unexpectedly, her mind shifted.
To a girl with soft brown eyes and a tired apron.
To a moment in the car where she felt lighter.
Sophia frowned lightly, almost scolding herself.
You were just being kind. Nothing more.
Still, there was something about Jane's way of talking—bright, unaware, genuine. A simplicity Sophia hadn't realized she missed.
She shook her head and finished the water, setting the glass down with gentle precision.
Before heading upstairs, she passed through the living room, stopping to glance at the family photo that still sat on the mantel.
Her father's smile frozen in time, her own much younger self beside him.
Sophia's fingers grazed the frame. "You'd have hated tonight," she murmured, a half-smile curving her lips. "She picked another one."
The house, as always, had no reply.
She turned away and headed for the stairs. There was work tomorrow. Always work.
The sun had barely lifted itself from the edge of the sky, but Sophia was already up—habit more than necessity.
Her bedroom, bathed in soft creams and gentle lighting, mirrored the same quiet order she lived by.
The silk robe wrapped around her form whispered as she moved through her morning routine—flawless, meticulous, controlled.
A long shower, followed by a careful selection of the day's outfit.
Today, she chose a soft beige blouse tucked into tailored white slacks, paired with a sand-colored trench coat.
The fabric clung and flowed just right, accentuating her composed poise. Her jewelry was subtle but undeniably expensive. Her shoes—Italian leather, hand-stitched.
She didn't dress to impress. She dressed because it was who she was.
But even as she stared into the mirror while smoothing down her coat, her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
To the coffee shop.
To warm mugs and scratched counters.
"To tired brown eyes that somehow saw through her, and a smile that made space without asking."
She blinked, scoffing at herself quietly as she reached for her bag.
"This isn't you. Sophia
Still, she found her fingers tapping the steering wheel a few extra beats when she pulled out of the driveway.
And before she could talk herself out of it, her car had already slipped into the turn that led toward that familiar little place.
The drive wasn't long. Just a few streets down from the hospital, nestled between a bookstore and a florist—Ben's Cafe.
Sophia parked across the road, tapping the key fob once before stepping out. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement, coat flaring slightly with each step as she crossed.
The bell above the café door chimed as she entered.
Warm air. The scent of ground coffee beans and baked muffins. Chatter low and constant. Familiar.
Her eyes scanned—discreetly, of course. But they searched.
No Jane.
A small frown flickered across Sophia's lips before she smoothed it away, stepping further in, trying to convince herself she wasn't disappointed.
"It's only coffee. Nothing more."
Still… her gaze kept drifting to the counter, to the corner where Jane usually worked, as though she might appear mid-shift. But no familiar apron. No warm smile.
"Doctor Sophia," a familiar voice greeted with cheerful surprise.
She turned. Mr. Ben was standing at the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. "You're early today. Didn't expect to see you back so soon."
Sophia nodded politely, schooling her expression. "Good morning, Mr. Ben. I had a little time."
"Your usual?" he asked, already reaching for the cup.
"Yes, thank you."
As he worked, she leaned slightly against the counter, glancing once more toward the back door as if Jane might walk in through it.
"Jane's not on shift yet," Mr. Ben said without looking up, voice casual.
Sophia raised an eyebrow, caught—though she didn't let it show. "I didn't ask."
He chuckled. "Didn't have to. You keep looking over your shoulder like she owes you change."
Sophia let out a breath—half scoff, half laugh—and accepted the coffee when he handed it over.
"She'll be in for the afternoon shift," he added with a wink.
Sophia nodded slowly, fingers tightening slightly around the warm cup. "Good to know."
She turned to leave, pausing only for a second at the door, eyes sweeping the place once more.
Then the bell chimed again behind her as she stepped out, the city's chill brushing her cheeks.
Her car was waiting, her schedule full. But that little tug in her chest?
It stayed.