The space between them
785 Words
Sophie sat on her bed later that night, her mind replaying Rachel’s words.
“Maybe we should stop giving people power to break us.”
It echoed in her head long after she got home.
She wished she could believe it — that she could stop wondering, stop missing, stop waiting for a text that never came.
Max had been silent for weeks now. No calls. No messages. Just silence.
And the more she tried to make sense of it, the more it hurt.
At first, she told herself he was busy — that work had swallowed him up, that maybe things with his father had gotten worse. But the longer it went on, the harder it became to believe those excuses.
She opened their old chat and scrolled through — all the good mornings, the late-night jokes, the little things that had made her feel alive again. Then she locked her phone and pressed it to her chest, whispering,
“Get a grip, Sophie.”
⸻
Across the city, Max sat in his office long after everyone had gone home. The lights of Steel Finance glimmered against the glass, but all he saw was the mess beneath the shine.
His father’s condition had worsened, NovaTech was circling closer after Alex’s betrayal, and board members were demanding answers. It felt like everything he’d worked to protect was slipping through his fingers.
He thought of Sophie — her laugh, her warmth, the way she made him forget the chaos — and guilt punched through him. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t drag her into this storm. That’s why he’d stepped back. That’s why he’d kept quiet.
But tonight, the silence was unbearable.
He opened his phone, staring at her name in his messages. His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
“I miss you.”
He typed it, stared at it for a long time — then deleted it.
He wasn’t ready to face her, not when his life was unraveling. Not when he couldn’t give her the version of himself she deserved.
So instead, he poured himself another drink and let the glow of the city blur his thoughts.
⸻
Days turned into weeks.
Sophie buried herself in work, trying not to check her phone every few minutes. Rachel had started seeing a therapist, trying to pick up her own pieces, and Sophie was proud of her — even if she was quietly breaking herself.
Sometimes, when she walked past the café where she and Max used to meet, she’d pause outside for a second too long. The smell of espresso, the sound of low chatter — everything reminded her of him.
And though she tried not to admit it…
she missed him.
Not just his voice, or his smile — but the calm he brought into her world.
The feeling of being seen.
⸻
Meanwhile, Max was drowning in responsibility.
He’d spent the last few days locked in meetings with his legal team, tracing NovaTech’s quiet attempts to undercut Steel Finance’s contracts. He couldn’t prove it yet, but his gut told him Alex had sold them something — confidential data, a strategy, maybe even client lists.
It was betrayal on a level he hadn’t expected — not just business, but personal. Alex had been someone he once trusted, someone who’d worked beside him for years.
“Max,” Daniel(max bestfriend and manager of Sterling finance said carefully one evening, “if NovaTech gets the upper hand, we’ll lose half our investors.”
Max nodded, eyes dark with exhaustion. “Not if I stop them first.”
But even as he said it, he felt the weight of it pressing down. His father’s legacy. His mother’s expectations. His company’s survival.
And the quiet ache of missing Sophie — the only thing that had felt real in months.
⸻
That night, he dreamt of her — laughing, standing by the lake where they’d once talked about everything and nothing. When he woke up, the ache was sharper than ever.
He finally picked up his phone.
Max: Sophie, I know I don’t deserve it, but I hope you’re okay.
He stared at the message for a long time…
then hit send.
⸻
Sophie was at her desk when her phone buzzed.
Her heart skipped when she saw his name.
For a full minute, she didn’t move — just stared at the screen, her breath caught between relief and hesitation. Then, slowly, she opened the message.
It wasn’t much — just one line. But it was enough to make her eyes sting.
Maybe he wasn’t gone forever.
Maybe there was still something worth holding onto.
She didn’t reply — not yet.
But for the first time in weeks, she smiled.
- Writer
