The Wrong Thing to Want
1083 Words
Sophia tried very hard not to think about Clara’s comment for the rest of the week.
Failed catastrophically.
Because now every interaction with Adrian felt suspiciously couple-like.
Morning coffee deliveries.
Late-night calls during traffic.
Him appearing downstairs whenever she skipped meals long enough to become irritable.
Which was apparently often.
Worst of all—
Sophia had started expecting him.
That realization alone felt emotionally humiliating.
⸻
“You’re smiling at your phone again.”
Sophia looked up sharply from her desk.
“I absolutely am not.”
Her assistant looked unconvinced.
“You do realize denying things immediately makes you look guiltier?”
“I’m firing you.”
“Not before the wedding.”
Sophia threw a pen at her.
Unfortunately, her assistant dodged easily after years of experience.
Coward.
Her phone buzzed again.
Adrian:
Meeting ran late. Eat dinner without me.
Sophia stared at the message.
Then frowned slightly.
Without me.
Not:
eat dinner.
Without me.
The wording settled somewhere soft and dangerous inside her chest.
Before she could overanalyze herself into emotional collapse, another message arrived:
Don’t work until midnight again.
Sophia typed immediately:
Stop monitoring my behavior.
Stop behaving concerningly.
Annoying man.
And yet—
Sophia closed her laptop thirty minutes earlier than usual that night.
⸻
Rain poured heavily across Jakarta by the time Sophia finally left the office.
The parking basement was quieter than usual, fluorescent lights reflecting against wet concrete while distant thunder echoed outside.
Sophia walked toward her car while checking emails on her phone—
Then stopped.
Someone leaned casually against the black Mercedes beside her parking spot.
Adrian.
Sophia frowned immediately.
“What are you doing here?”
“You ignored dinner.”
“I was working.”
“You said that like it explains the problem.”
Sophia hated how reasonable he sounded all the time.
It made arguing difficult.
Adrian stepped closer slowly, hands inside his pockets.
No pressure.
No dramatic confrontation.
Just presence.
Dangerous.
“You look exhausted,” he said softly.
Sophia leaned against her car with a tired sigh.
“I had three investor meetings today.”
“You skipped lunch too.”
“How do you know that?”
“You get headaches when you skip meals.”
The terrifying thing was:
he noticed that from her silence alone.
Sophia stared at him carefully.
“When did you start memorizing my habits?”
Adrian’s expression stayed calm.
“When they started mattering to me.”
The sentence hit her chest immediately.
Too intimate.
Too honest.
Sophia looked away toward the rain beyond the parking entrance.
“You say things very casually for someone emotionally dangerous.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“There’s the dramatic version of you again.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
The softness in his voice made her heartbeat noticeably heavier.
Rain continued pouring outside while silence settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Worse.
Comfortable.
Sophia suddenly became aware of how alone they were down here.
How close Adrian stood.
How tired she felt.
How easy it would be to stop resisting whatever this had become.
Dangerous thought.
“You should go home,” she said quietly.
Adrian studied her carefully.
“You want me to?”
No.
Again.
Always no.
Sophia hated how automatic the answer had become inside her chest.
Before she could respond, thunder cracked loudly outside.
The lights flickered briefly overhead.
Sophia startled instinctively.
Small reaction.
Still enough for Adrian to notice.
“You hate thunderstorms too?”
Sophia crossed her arms immediately.
“I don’t hate them.”
“You flinched.”
“I was surprised.”
“You jumped.”
“Why are you tracking my movements like wildlife research?”
Adrian laughed softly.
The sound warmed something dangerous inside her immediately.
Then another thunderclap echoed.
Closer this time.
Sophia looked away quickly.
Childhood memories surfaced too fast:
shouting,
breaking glass,
her mother crying during storms while pretending everything was fine afterward.
Rainy nights always felt heavy growing up.
Adrian noticed the shift in her expression immediately.
“Sophia.”
The gentleness in his voice almost made things worse.
“I’m fine.”
Lie.
He stepped closer carefully.
Not cornering.
Not overwhelming.
Just enough warmth beside her to make breathing easier.
“You know,” he said quietly, “you don’t always have to survive everything alone.”
The sentence cracked something open inside her chest again.
Because she was tired.
So unbelievably tired.
Of holding herself together constantly.
Of acting unaffected.
Of carrying everything alone because weakness never felt safe growing up.
And suddenly—
Sophia wanted something dangerous.
Comfort.
The realization terrified her immediately.
Because comfort led to dependence.
Dependence led to pain.
Her mother proved that already.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered quietly before she could stop herself.
Adrian’s eyes softened instantly.
“Do what?”
“This.” Her voice weakened slightly. “Trusting someone enough to need them.”
Silence surrounded them.
Rain.
Thunder.
Breathing.
Then Adrian said softly:
“Maybe you start small.”
Sophia looked up slowly.
“How?”
Adrian hesitated briefly.
Then carefully lifted one hand toward her face.
Slow enough that she could pull away.
She didn’t.
His fingers brushed gently against a strand of hair near her cheek.
Tiny contact.
Still enough to send warmth rushing sharply through her chest.
Sophia stopped breathing for half a second.
Because no one had ever touched her this gently before.
Not wanting something.
Not demanding something.
Just careful.
Adrian’s gaze stayed locked on hers.
“Sophia.”
The way he said her name nearly destroyed whatever emotional stability she had left.
And suddenly—
she wanted him to kiss her.
The realization hit so hard it frightened her instantly.
Sophia stepped back immediately.
Panic flashed sharply through her chest.
Too close.
Too fast.
Too real.
Adrian froze too.
Not angry.
Just watching her carefully.
Sophia looked away first, breathing unevenly.
“I should go.”
Coward.
The word echoed immediately inside her own head.
But Adrian didn’t stop her.
Didn’t guilt her.
Didn’t pressure her.
He simply nodded once.
“Okay.”
That gentleness somehow hurt more.
Sophia unlocked her car too quickly before sliding inside.
But before closing the door, she looked at him one last time standing there beneath fluorescent lights and distant thunder.
Still calm.
Still patient.
Still looking at her like she was worth waiting for.
And that—
more than anything else—
terrified Sophia completely.
- Writer
