Staying
984 Words
Sophia did not realize when exactly Adrian became part of her breathing.
But sometime between midnight phone calls, rain-soaked conversations, and the quiet way he always showed up—
being near him started feeling natural.
Dangerously natural.
The parking area outside her mother’s apartment complex had grown quieter now.
Rain still drizzled softly against the pavement while distant Jakarta traffic hummed beneath the late-night sky.
Sophia sat sideways in the passenger seat of Adrian’s car, one leg tucked slightly beneath her while soft music played faintly in the background.
Neither of them seemed in any hurry to leave.
And somehow that alone felt intimate.
Adrian rested one arm loosely near the steering wheel while the other remained draped comfortably along the center console between them.
Close enough that Sophia could feel warmth lingering near her hand.
Not touching.
Yet.
Dangerous man.
“You’re thinking again,” Adrian murmured softly.
Sophia stared out toward the rain-streaked windshield.
“I’m always thinking.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Sophia glanced toward him briefly.
Then looked away too quickly.
Because Adrian was looking at her again.
That soft expression.
Like he was seeing something fragile and precious at the same time.
Sophia still didn’t know how to survive being looked at like that.
“You know,” she muttered quietly, “most people eventually get tired of emotionally complicated women.”
Adrian’s eyebrow lifted slightly.
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“It’s basic statistics.”
“Interesting.” His voice stayed calm. “And where exactly are these statistics coming from?”
“My entire childhood.”
The honesty settled quietly between them.
Sophia traced her fingers slowly along the edge of the water bottle in her hands.
“My father always made my mother feel difficult to love whenever she became emotional,” she admitted softly. “Eventually she stopped asking for things entirely.”
The memory hurt more tonight for some reason.
Maybe because Adrian was sitting beside her proving love could look different.
Softer.
Safer.
And Sophia still didn’t fully know what to do with that.
Adrian watched her quietly for a moment before speaking.
“You know what I think?”
Sophia glanced toward him cautiously.
“I think you learned how to survive very young,” he said softly. “But nobody taught you that surviving and living aren’t supposed to feel the same.”
The words hit painfully deep.
Because Sophia honestly didn’t know the difference anymore.
Her whole life had been about:
stability,
control,
independence,
never needing too much from anyone.
And suddenly Adrian appeared and made warmth feel safe enough to want.
Disaster.
Sophia leaned back against the seat slowly.
“You say emotionally devastating things too casually.”
“I’ve noticed that bothers you.”
“It should bother everyone.”
A smile touched the corner of his mouth.
Then silence settled again.
Not awkward.
Never awkward anymore.
Just soft.
Comfortable.
Sophia hated how much she loved that.
Outside, rain tapped quietly against the car roof while warm yellow lights reflected across wet pavement.
The world suddenly felt very small in here.
Just the two of them.
Breathing.
Existing.
No fighting.
No pressure.
No emotional chaos.
Sophia realized suddenly that this might be the safest she had ever felt with another person.
The realization terrified her immediately.
Because safety made people stay longer inside your heart.
And losing them afterward hurt more.
Adrian noticed the shift in her expression.
“What happened?”
Sophia hesitated.
Then quietly:
“I’m scared this will hurt someday.”
The vulnerability in her voice nearly undid him instantly.
Adrian’s expression softened.
“Come here.”
The words came gently.
Not demanding.
Sophia stared at him for one second longer before finally leaning across the center console slowly until Adrian’s arms wrapped around her naturally.
Warm.
Steady.
Safe.
Sophia rested her forehead lightly against his shoulder while his hand moved slowly through her hair.
And suddenly—
she understood why people risked heartbreak for love.
Because this feeling right here—
being held gently after years of carrying everything alone—
felt worth terrifying herself for.
“You know what’s strange?” Sophia whispered quietly against him.
“What?”
“I don’t feel lonely when I’m with you.”
Adrian’s arms tightened slightly around her.
Because he understood exactly how big that confession was.
Sophia closed her eyes briefly.
The warmth of him.
The steady sound of his breathing.
The quietness surrounding them.
Everything felt unbearably intimate.
Not because of passion.
Because of peace.
And maybe peace was what Sophia had been searching for her entire life without realizing it.
Adrian pressed a soft kiss against her hair.
Then quietly:
“You don’t have to keep surviving alone anymore.”
The sentence broke something open inside her chest.
Because suddenly Sophia realized—
Adrian was not asking her to become weaker.
He was asking her to finally rest.
A tear slipped free before she could stop it.
Annoying.
Sophia laughed weakly under her breath while wiping her face quickly.
“I’m becoming emotionally embarrassing around you.”
“You’ve cried twice.”
“That’s already too many times.”
A soft laugh vibrated through his chest beneath her cheek.
Then Adrian tilted her face upward gently until she looked at him again.
No fear in his expression.
No impatience.
Just warmth.
Always warmth.
Sophia’s heartbeat softened painfully.
Then quietly—
before fear could stop her—
she whispered:
“Stay with me tonight.”
Silence.
Not shocked.
Just emotionally heavy.
Because both of them understood what she actually meant.
Not s*x.
Not obligation.
Stay because I don’t want to feel alone tonight.
Adrian’s expression softened so deeply it almost hurt to look at.
“Okay,” he answered gently.
And somehow—
that single word healed something inside her a little.
- Writer
