The Wrong Kind of Need
1116 Words
Adrian left Sophia’s apartment at 1:17 in the morning.
Sophia knew because she stared at the clock for twenty-three minutes afterward instead of sleeping.
The apartment felt different now.
Not physically.
Worse.
Emotionally.
His untouched coffee mug still sat near the kitchen counter. The faint scent of cedar and rain lingered in the air long after the elevator doors had closed behind him.
Sophia hated it.
Hated how aware she had become of someone else’s presence inside her space.
Dangerous.
That word kept returning every time Adrian Reyes entered her life.
Because he wasn’t dangerous in the way her father had been.
Her father was predictable: selfish, careless,emotionally cruel.
Men like that were easy to avoid once you recognized them.
Adrian was different.
Gentle men were harder.
They made you lower your guard slowly enough that you didn’t realize it was happening until it was too late.
⸻
Three days later, Sophia found herself distracted during an investor presentation for the first time in years.
“…the revised proposal projections should increase annual revenue by eighteen percent over the next—”
“Ms. Lin?”
Sophia blinked.
The conference room had gone quiet.
One of the investors looked confused.
“You repeated the same slide twice.”
Damn.
“That was intentional,” Sophia lied smoothly.
Nobody looked convinced.
Across the table, her assistant stared at her in mild horror.
Sophia Lin never lost focus during meetings.
Ever.
She continued the presentation flawlessly afterward, but irritation lingered beneath her skin the entire time.
At herself.
Not Adrian.
Mostly.
After the meeting ended, her assistant followed her quickly back toward the office.
“You’re distracted lately.”
“I’m busy.”
“You forgot two meetings yesterday.”
“I rescheduled them.”
“You attended one wearing two different earrings.”
Sophia stopped walking immediately.
“…What?”
Her assistant burst into laughter.
“Oh my God. It really is serious.”
Sophia narrowed her eyes dangerously.
“Careful.”
“No, because this is fascinating.” Her assistant lowered her voice dramatically. “The terrifying Sophia Lin has feelings.”
“I have stress.”
“Mhm.”
Sophia entered her office before committing workplace violence.
But once alone again, silence settled heavily around her.
Because unfortunately—
her assistant wasn’t entirely wrong.
Sophia was distracted.
Not because Adrian flirted with her.
Not because he was attractive.
But because he made her feel seen in ways nobody else ever had.
And she didn’t know what to do with that.
Her phone buzzed against the desk.
Adrian.
Sophia stared at the screen for several seconds before answering.
“What.”
A quiet chuckle came through the speaker.
“You answer the phone like you’re preparing for war.”
“What do you want?”
“Lunch.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard the invitation yet.”
“I already know the answer.”
“Stubborn.”
“Persistent.”
“Friday. One hour.”
Sophia continued signing documents calmly.
“I’m working.”
“You always say that.”
“Because I always am.”
A pause.
Then Adrian spoke more softly.
“You know eventually your body’s going to force you to rest if you keep treating it like machinery.”
Something uncomfortable twisted inside her chest again.
Concern.
Always concern.
No man should sound that sincere over skipped meals.
“I survived twenty-eight years already,” she said lightly.
The silence on the other end changed instantly.
And Sophia realized too late what she had accidentally revealed.
Survived.
Not lived.
Adrian noticed too.
Of course he did.
“You shouldn’t have had to,” he said quietly.
The gentleness in his voice hit harder than sympathy ever could.
Sophia suddenly felt trapped inside the conversation.
Too exposed.
Too understood.
So naturally—
she attacked.
“You know,” she said coolly, “this emotionally observant act probably works very well on women.”
Silence.
Wrong move.
Immediately wrong.
Because when Adrian answered again, his voice sounded calmer than before.
But colder too.
“I’m not trying to ‘work’ on you, Sophia.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
Damn it.
“You know what I mean.”
“No,” he said quietly. “Actually, I don’t.”
The distance in his tone unsettled her instantly.
“I’m busy,” Sophia said quickly.
Another mistake.
Because now it sounded like avoidance.
Maybe it was.
“Right,” Adrian replied.
No argument.
No teasing.
No patience this time.
Just right.
The call ended.
Sophia stared at her phone afterward with growing discomfort.
Why did that feel so awful?
⸻
That evening, Jakarta’s rain arrived early again.
Sophia sat alone in her office long after everyone else had left, city lights glowing beyond the windows while unfinished documents blurred together on her desk.
But she wasn’t reading anymore.
Her thoughts kept replaying the phone call.
The disappointment in Adrian’s voice.
Not anger.
Worse.
Withdrawal.
Sophia hated how much she noticed.
Her mother used to notice those shifts too.
The emotional distance before her father disappeared for days.
The colder tone.
The shorter conversations.
And look where that sensitivity got her.
Dependent.
Heartbroken.
Trapped.
Sophia pushed away from the desk abruptly.
No.
This was exactly why emotional attachment was dangerous.
You started caring about small changes in someone’s voice.
Started wondering whether they were upset.
Started needing reassurance.
Pathetic.
Her phone lit up again.
For one stupid hopeful second, Sophia thought it was Adrian.
Instead:
Mom.
Sophia answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“Sophia…” Her mother sounded hesitant. “Are you free this weekend?”
Sophia rubbed her forehead tiredly.
“What happened now?”
“Vivian wants to see Jakarta before university starts.”
Sophia froze slightly.
“She asked about you.”
Of course she did.
Guilt settled uncomfortably inside Sophia’s chest.
“She’s just a kid,” her mother said softly. “And she seems very lonely.”
Sophia looked out at the rain silently.
Another daughter left emotionally stranded by the same man.
The cycle continuing again.
“…Fine,” Sophia said quietly. “I’ll take her around the city.”
Her mother sounded relieved instantly.
“Thank you.”
After ending the call, Sophia leaned back slowly in her chair.
Exhausted.
Emotionally exhausted.
By the time she finally arrived home that night, it was nearly midnight.
She dropped her bag near the kitchen counter before freezing briefly.
Adrian’s untouched coffee mug still sat inside the sink from three nights ago.
Sophia stared at it for a long moment.
And for the first time in years—
the idea of needing someone no longer felt impossible.
Just terrifying.
- Writer
