The Dangerous Part of Hope
884 Words
Sophia spent the next three days avoiding Adrian.
Not intentionally.
At least that was the lie she told herself.
In reality, she ignored two messages, declined one lunch invitation, and buried herself so deeply in work that even her assistant eventually looked concerned.
“You know burnout is medically real, right?”
Sophia continued typing without looking up.
“So is incompetence. Yet people survive that daily.”
Her assistant sighed dramatically.
“You’re in a bad mood.”
“I’m in a meeting.”
“You’re alone.”
“Exactly.”
The office door closed with visible disappointment.
Sophia leaned back slowly once silence returned.
Exhaustion pressed heavily behind her eyes.
Not physical exhaustion.
Emotional.
Because ever since that night in Adrian’s car, something had shifted inside her in a way she couldn’t undo.
The almost-touch replayed constantly in her mind.
The way he looked at her.
The way he stopped himself.
The way she almost wanted him not to.
Dangerous.
Sophia hated how much that moment affected her.
Because attraction was manageable.
Physical chemistry was manageable.
But hope?
Hope destroyed people.
Her mother spent decades hoping.
Look where that ended.
Sophia grabbed another document sharply, forcing herself back into work before her thoughts could spiral further.
Her phone vibrated again.
Adrian.
Sophia stared at the screen.
Then silenced it.
Coward.
The accusation came instantly from somewhere deep inside her chest.
Unfortunately accurate.
⸻
That evening, rain returned again.
Jakarta’s streets glowed beneath blurred headlights while Sophia sat silently inside the backseat of a taxi heading home after another fourteen-hour workday.
She was halfway through answering emails when her mother called.
Sophia almost ignored it.
Almost.
“Hello?”
“Sophia…” Her mother sounded hesitant again. “Your father collapsed.”
Everything inside Sophia went still.
“What?”
“He’s in the hospital.”
The words landed strangely.
Not grief.
Not panic.
Just numbness.
“What happened?”
“The doctor said exhaustion and high blood pressure.” Her mother paused softly. “Vivian’s there alone right now.”
Of course she was.
Sophia closed her eyes briefly.
Her father always managed to leave emotional responsibility to the women around him somehow.
“I’ll come.”
⸻
The hospital smelled painfully familiar.
Cold air.
White lights.
Quiet footsteps.
Sophia hated hospitals.
Too many memories of waiting rooms from childhood after one of her parents’ explosive fights turned physical enough for neighbors to interfere.
By the time she reached the private room upstairs, Vivian stood outside alone clutching paper cups of untouched coffee.
Relief crossed her face immediately upon seeing Sophia.
“You came.”
The sentence hurt more than it should have.
Because it sounded surprised.
Sophia glanced toward the hospital room.
“How is he?”
“Sleeping.”
Vivian looked exhausted.
Young.
Overwhelmed.
Trying not to cry in public.
Sophia recognized that expression too well.
“You should sit down,” Sophia said quietly.
Vivian shook her head immediately.
“I’m okay.”
Lie.
Sophia almost pointed it out automatically—
then stopped.
Because suddenly she heard herself.
Saw herself.
Same words.
Same survival instinct.
A strange ache settled inside her chest.
“You don’t always have to say that,” Sophia murmured softly.
Vivian blinked at her.
Then unexpectedly—
started crying.
Quietly at first.
Then harder.
Sophia froze immediately.
Oh no.
She did not know how to handle crying people.
Especially family.
Especially emotionally vulnerable family.
Vivian covered her face quickly, embarrassed.
“Sorry—I’m sorry—”
“Stop apologizing.”
Too sharp.
Vivian flinched slightly.
Damn it.
Sophia exhaled slowly before sitting beside her.
Awkward.
Uncertain.
But present.
“It’s okay to be scared,” she said quietly after a long moment.
Vivian cried harder.
Apparently that was the correct thing to say.
Who knew.
Sophia handed her tissues awkwardly while staring straight ahead at the hospital corridor.
Then footsteps approached.
Calm.
Steady.
Familiar.
Sophia looked up immediately.
Adrian.
Of course.
Relief hit her chest so suddenly it almost frightened her.
Adrian noticed Vivian crying first.
Then Sophia beside her.
Understanding crossed his face instantly.
“How did you know?” Sophia asked quietly.
“Vivian called me.”
Sophia blinked.
“…You gave Vivian your number?”
“She asked.”
Traitor.
Under different circumstances, Sophia might have rolled her eyes.
But exhaustion had worn her defenses too thin tonight.
Adrian sat beside them calmly, taking the untouched coffee cups from Vivian before they spilled from her shaking hands.
“Have either of you eaten?”
Both women stayed silent.
Adrian sighed softly like he expected that answer already.
“I’ll get food.”
“You don’t have to,” Sophia said automatically.
“I know.”
Same answer as before.
Always gentle.
Always steady.
Dangerous man.
After Adrian walked away, Vivian looked at Sophia carefully through swollen eyes.
“He came because of you.”
Sophia crossed her arms immediately.
“He came because you called him.”
Vivian gave her a look that felt far too knowing for a nineteen-year-old.
“No,” she said softly. “I think he came because you matter to him.”
The words settled heavily inside Sophia’s chest.
Because deep down—
the terrifying part was that she was starting to believe it too.
- Writer
