The morning after their tense conversation on the balcony, Sophia couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. Despite her best efforts to dismiss it, the way Liam had looked at her—like he could see right through her defenses—kept replaying in her mind. She tried to focus, buried herself in work, and avoided him whenever possible. But the silence between them was no longer comfortable. It felt charged, like they were both waiting for the other to make the first move.
Liam, for his part, was uncharacteristically distant. He had barely spoken to her that morning, only exchanging the briefest of pleasantries over breakfast. It was as though he was giving her space—or perhaps he was simply biding his time.
By late afternoon, Sophia was sitting in the living room, going over some financial reports when she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Liam; his presence was impossible to ignore. He was quiet, almost too quiet, and she felt the air around her tighten.
"Busy?" His voice was unexpectedly soft, devoid of the usual sarcasm.
Sophia kept her eyes on the papers in front of her, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. "I have work to do," she said curtly.
She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting. It took every ounce of restraint not to turn and snap at him. But instead, she pressed her lips together, determined to maintain control.
"I don't know why you're fighting this," Liam said suddenly, his voice betraying a hint of frustration. "This marriage, this situation—it's not just me. It's both of us in this mess. We might as well try to make the best of it."
Sophia froze, her pen pausing mid-sentence. "Make the best of it?" she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "You think I should just accept this...this arrangement and pretend it's fine?"
Liam sighed, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning against. "No. But fighting me at every turn is only going to make it worse. We're stuck with each other. We might as well stop pretending it's all about hatred."
Her pulse quickened, a mix of anger and confusion swirling within her. "I don't hate you," she said before she could stop herself. "I just... I don't like you."
Liam's expression softened for the briefest moment, his eyes flickering with something almost... vulnerable. But it was gone before she could process it.
"I'm not asking you to like me," he replied quietly. "But maybe it's time we stop pretending that there's nothing else between us."
Sophia's breath hitched as his words hung in the air. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond. She wasn't ready to admit that something inside her had shifted too—that maybe, just maybe, he was right.