The Part That Hurts
1078 Words
Adrian left Sophia’s apartment just after sunrise.
Not because he wanted to.
Because Sophia looked emotionally overwhelmed enough that staying longer might send her into cardiac arrest.
“You’re overthinking again,” Adrian murmured softly near the doorway while putting on his shoes.
“I’m always overthinking.”
“I noticed.”
Sophia crossed her arms defensively.
“You say that like it’s charming.”
“It is sometimes.”
Dangerous man.
The morning light spilling through the apartment windows felt strangely intimate now after the long night together.
Too warm.
Too soft.
Too much evidence that Adrian fit naturally into spaces Sophia never intended to share.
Which terrified her.
He stepped closer before leaving, fingers brushing lightly against her wrist.
Small touch.
Still enough to make her heartbeat stumble embarrassingly fast.
“Get some rest today,” he said gently.
“You sound controlling again.”
“You sound sleep-deprived again.”
Annoying.
Sophia rolled her eyes automatically.
But before Adrian turned toward the door, she caught his sleeve lightly without thinking.
Both froze.
Sophia looked mildly horrified by her own behavior.
Because that movement—
that instinctive reaching—
felt dangerously vulnerable.
Adrian looked down briefly at her hand around his sleeve.
Then back at her.
Softly:
“You okay?”
No.
Yes.
Terrified.
Sophia released him immediately.
“Leave before I regain emotional stability.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Then Adrian leaned down and kissed her forehead gently before leaving the apartment.
And somehow—
that affected Sophia even more than kissing her mouth.
Because forehead kisses felt frighteningly tender.
Domestic.
Safe.
The apartment felt too quiet after he left.
Sophia stood motionless near the doorway for several seconds before realizing something alarming:
She missed him already.
Disaster.
⸻
Three days later, Sophia sat inside her office pretending her emotional life wasn’t collapsing quietly beneath expensive corporate clothing.
Failed catastrophically.
“You’ve smiled at your phone six times today,” her assistant announced.
Sophia looked up immediately.
“I absolutely have not.”
“You did it again just now.”
Traitor.
Sophia grabbed another document aggressively.
Unfortunately, the document was upside down.
Her assistant stared silently.
“This is getting embarrassing for you.”
“I pay your salary.”
“And yet love still humiliates rich people equally.”
Sophia considered homicide briefly.
Her phone buzzed again.
Adrian:
Lunch?
Sophia typed immediately:
Working.
Liar.
Rude.
Another message appeared:
You’ve been avoiding me slightly.
Sophia froze.
Because unfortunately—
he was right.
Not fully avoiding him.
Just…
creating small distances again.
Leaving calls earlier.
Replying slower.
Keeping conversations safer.
Because the closer Adrian became, the more panic quietly returned.
Dangerous cycle.
Sophia stared at the screen for several seconds before replying:
Busy week.
The typing bubble appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then finally:
Sophia.
Just her name.
And somehow that single word carried too much understanding already.
Her chest tightened.
⸻
That evening, Sophia visited her mother’s apartment after work.
Vivian opened the door first.
“You look stressed.”
“What an offensive greeting.”
“It’s accurate.”
Unfortunately true.
The apartment smelled faintly of soup and medicine now that her father was temporarily staying there after leaving the hospital.
Sophia immediately felt tension settle heavily across her shoulders.
Even after all these years, her family still exhausted her before conversations even started.
Her mother emerged from the kitchen looking tired.
“Sophia.”
“You should be resting,” Sophia said automatically.
“I’m fine.”
Lie.
Family tradition.
Sophia sighed quietly before helping carry food toward the dining table.
From the living room, her father looked up slowly.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Awkward.
Heavy.
Like years of unresolved pain sitting silently between furniture and dinner plates.
“You’ve been busy,” her father said carefully.
Sophia sat down across from him.
“I work.”
A pause.
Then:
“Your mother said you’ve been seeing someone.”
Sophia nearly dropped her spoon.
Excuse me?
Her mother suddenly looked very interested in soup.
Traitor.
Vivian looked seconds away from enjoying this entirely too much.
Sophia narrowed her eyes.
“Why are you all discussing my personal life?”
“Because it’s surprising,” Vivian answered honestly.
Rude.
Her father studied her carefully.
“Is he good to you?”
The question landed strangely.
Because somehow—
after everything—
her father still sounded like he thought he had the right to ask.
Sophia laughed once quietly under her breath.
Not amused.
“You don’t get to evaluate other men’s relationships.”
Silence.
Her mother looked down immediately.
Vivian went still beside them.
Her father’s expression tightened slightly.
But Sophia couldn’t stop now.
Twenty-eight years of swallowed resentment suddenly sat too heavily inside her chest.
“I watched you hurt every woman who trusted you,” she said quietly. “So no, I don’t particularly care what you think about my relationship.”
The room fell silent.
Painfully silent.
Her father looked older suddenly.
Smaller too.
Good.
Sophia wanted him to feel small for once.
But instead of anger, exhaustion crossed his face.
“I know I failed.”
The sentence hit strangely.
Not satisfying.
Not healing.
Just late.
Far too late.
Sophia looked away first because suddenly her chest hurt unexpectedly.
Her father exhaled slowly before speaking again.
“I just don’t want you becoming unhappy because of me.”
And somehow—
that hurt most of all.
Because the damage was already done.
Sophia spent her entire life terrified of love because of him.
Terrified of needing people.
Trusting people.
Depending on people.
And now Adrian was slowly undoing years of fear Sophia built to survive.
Which should feel healing.
Instead it felt terrifying.
Because what if she lost him too?
What if loving someone always ended painfully eventually?
Sophia suddenly stood from the table.
“I need air.”
Before anyone could stop her, she stepped outside toward the apartment balcony overlooking Jakarta’s glowing night skyline.
Warm wind brushed softly against her skin while traffic lights moved endlessly below.
Sophia gripped the railing tightly.
Breathing unevenly.
Too many emotions.
Too many memories.
Then her phone vibrated.
Adrian.
Sophia stared at his name for several seconds before answering quietly.
“Hi.”
Immediate softness entered his voice.
“There you are.”
And suddenly—
without warning—
Sophia’s eyes burned painfully.
Because somehow Adrian’s voice already felt like relief now.
Which terrified her more than anything else.
- Writer
