The afternoon light streamed in through the tall windows of the library, casting soft beams across the polished wood floors. Sofia sat at the large, sturdy desk near the center of the room, her eyes fixed on the journal she had discovered hidden in the bookshelf. The words on the pages seemed to pull her deeper and deeper into Ryan's world—a world filled with love, loss, and heartache.
Her fingers lightly traced the elegant script, each word written with such tenderness and longing. She couldn't help herself; the more she read, the more she wanted to understand the man who was always so closed off, so distant. What had he been like before the pain? Before the grief? She couldn't ignore the ache in her chest as she read about his late wife, Amelia, and the love they had shared. It was a love that had once filled their home with warmth and joy, but now, it felt like a ghost, lingering in the corners of the manor.
Sofia was so absorbed in the pages that she didn't notice the soft click of the door opening. A shadow fell across the desk, and for the first time in what felt like hours, Sofia looked up. Her heart stopped.
Ryan stood in the doorway, his face a mask of fury. His dark eyes, usually so distant and guarded, now blazed with an intensity that took Sofia's breath away. His jaw was clenched, and his posture was stiff, like a man ready to strike.
"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was low, dangerous, like a storm just before it broke.
Sofia's stomach dropped. She hadn't expected him. Her fingers froze on the pages of the journal, and for a brief, horrible moment, she couldn't find the words to explain herself.
"I—" she stammered, but Ryan stepped into the room, his presence so overwhelming that she felt as if she couldn't breathe. He moved toward her, his footsteps slow but deliberate.
"What the hell is this?" he demanded, pointing to the journal in her hands. "You've been reading my personal things?"
Sofia's face burned with shame. She had known she was doing something wrong, but seeing his anger now, so raw and real, made her realize just how much she had crossed a line. She quickly closed the journal and set it down on the desk, but it felt like the damage had already been done.
"I didn't mean to… I wasn't trying to disrespect you," she said, her voice trembling. "I just… I found it, and I couldn't help myself. I was just trying to understand—"
Ryan's eyes flashed with rage, and he stepped even closer, his voice rising. "Understand? Is that what you call it? You've been snooping through my things. My private, personal things." He spat out the words like they were venom, each one cutting deeper than the last.
Sofia's heart pounded in her chest, her hands trembling in her lap. She wanted to explain, to apologize, but the words felt like they were stuck in her throat. She had never seen him like this—his usual cold demeanor completely shattered by an anger that radiated from him like an unstoppable force.
"I didn't mean to hurt you, Mr. Blackwood," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I never wanted to invade your privacy. I just… I wanted to understand why you're the way you are. Why you're always so distant…"
Ryan let out a harsh laugh, but it was bitter, lacking any humor. "Distant?" he repeated, his voice a harsh rasp. "You think I'm distant? Maybe you should try living a life where everything you loved is ripped away from you in an instant. Try losing the only person who ever mattered to you and see how 'distant' you become." His words were sharp, each one like a lash against her skin.
Sofia flinched, her breath hitching. She hadn't meant to open old wounds, to expose the pain he had buried so deeply inside him. But now she understood—his coldness, his walls, his anger—they were all the result of a grief that had consumed him. And somehow, in her search for understanding, she had made it worse.
Ryan took a step back, his fists clenched at his sides. His chest rose and fell with each sharp breath, and for a moment, Sofia thought he might explode. He looked at her, and for the first time, there was something other than anger in his eyes—something raw, something vulnerable.
"Amelia was everything to me," Ryan said, his voice low and hoarse, a tremor running through his words. "She was my life. And you… you come here and read about it like it's some sort of story. You think you can understand me because of some damn journal? You can't. You'll never understand." His voice broke at the end, a crack of pain that Sofia hadn't expected.
Sofia's heart ached at the sight of him, so fierce and yet so broken. She had known that his grief ran deep, but seeing him in this state—so exposed, so vulnerable—was more than she had ever expected.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I didn't mean to disrespect you. I didn't think… I didn't think it would hurt you like this."
Ryan looked at her, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was thick, heavy with unspoken words and emotions neither of them knew how to deal with.
Finally, Ryan exhaled sharply, as if pushing the air out of his lungs was the only way to release the tension that had built up inside him. "You shouldn't have read it," he muttered, his voice still tight with anger, but no longer as sharp. "But I can't say I'm surprised. I've been keeping it all locked away for so long… maybe it was inevitable someone would find it."
Sofia's mind raced. She wanted to say more, wanted to explain herself, but she knew that nothing she said would make this better. She had crossed a line, and now she had to live with the consequences.
"I won't read anything else," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I promise. I just… I wanted to understand."
Ryan gave a stiff nod, his jaw still clenched. "You don't understand," he repeated, though his tone was less harsh now. "No one does."
Sofia looked at him, her heart heavy with regret. She had hoped that by understanding him better, she could help him heal. But now, she realized that healing was something he had to do on his own. It wasn't something she could force, no matter how much she cared for him—or for Lily.
"I'm sorry," she said again, this time more firmly. "I won't intrude again."