Chasing dreams

Chapter Three

Sophie stepped out of the company at exactly 6 p.m., the evening breeze brushing softly against her face. She unlocked her phone and scrolled through a flood of notifications, her lips curving into a tired smile when she saw over nine hundred messages from random groups she had joined—mostly out of boredom. It was almost disappointing to find that, after an entire day of being offline, only one message ever really mattered. And, as always, it was from Rihanna.

Jenna had instructed her earlier to check her email for her next task: preparing the CEO’s weekly schedule from a detailed list of meetings, appointments, and engagements that had been forwarded to her inbox. Sophie got to work, her fingers flying over the screen as she organized everything neatly.

She was just about to exit her email when another notification appeared—a new message from an unfamiliar sender. Sophie paused, tilting her head slightly as she muttered to herself, “That’s new.”

Her finger hovered over the screen for a few seconds, hesitation tugging at her curiosity, before she finally clicked on it.

It was from a publishing company—the same one that had organized a writing contest she had entered months ago, back when job hunting had drained her of hope and she’d joined out of pure boredom. She remembered the contest’s promise clearly: to promote the best books among the contestants. But Sophie had long dismissed it as another scam. She’d been deceived too many times before, each false promise raising her hopes only to crush them again. Every disappointment left a quiet bruise she’d learned to hide behind a steady grin.

The email read:

‘Dear Sophie Walker,

I’m Hardin Stiles, CEO of Dream Publishing Company. I’ve gone through your work and believe it has remarkable potential. We’d love to have you on board and discuss the possibility of publishing under our company. Please let me know if you’re available for a brief meeting to finalize details.

Best regards,

Hardin Stiles

CEO, Dreams Publishing Company’

Sophie scoffed under her breath, her lips curling into a wry smile as she muttered, “An honest one after all, huh?” Then, straightening her shoulders, she whispered again, almost bitterly, “Too late.” But before she could take a step, an arm suddenly swung around her neck from behind. Instinct took over. Sophie grabbed the hand, twisted, and flipped the person clean over her shoulder. She was already pulling back her elbow, ready to strike again when a sharp cry stopped her mid-motion.

Her eyes widened. “Oh dear—Aria?!”

The poor girl was on the ground, clutching her side, eyes already brimming with tears.

Sophie’s panic shot up instantly. “Oh my God, it’s you! I’m so sorry—here!” She crouched down, helping Aria up, dusting her off, and frantically picking up her glasses from the floor. “I didn’t know it was you. I swear, I thought—ugh, never mind.”

Aria, still sniffling and blinking hard, slipped her glasses back on with trembling fingers. She was squinting, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, her face red and scrunched from pain.

Sophie bit her lip, guilt washing over her. “Please stop crying, you’re making me feel like a villain already.”

Aria sniffed again, voice small and shaky. “You are a villain. My back hurts…”

Sophie kept patting Aria’s back, her voice low and apologetic. “Sorry, dear… I’m really sorry.” She continued until Aria’s shaky breathing slowed and the tears finally stopped.

“I was just trying to greet you, you know?” Aria said between muffled sobs, her tone somewhere between hurt and disbelief.

“I know, right? But you shouldn’t swing at someone like that from behind. I mean, who does that?” Sophie stuttered, pulling a tissue from her bag and gently wiping Aria’s damp cheeks.

“Everyone. Everyone does that to their friends, you know?” Aria sniffled, blinking through her foggy glasses as if genuinely confused by Sophie’s reaction.

“Oh, really?” Sophie raised a brow, nodding slowly while her mind drifted. She thought of Rihanna. In eight whole years of friendship, not once had either of them jumped the other like that. Her poor social life clearly needed some upgrading. Noted, she told herself silently.

“You don’t know that? I mean, didn’t you ever have friends?” Aria asked softly, peering curiously at her through wide eyes.

Sophie blinked, avoiding her gaze, then snapped back with mock offense. “Oh, ridiculous! I have lots of friends. So many that I can’t even keep count. It’s just—” she hesitated, fumbling for words, “—the way you jumped at me was so sudden, and I haven’t really gotten used to having you around. That’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were like me. Lucky you,” Aria mumbled, adjusting her glasses again, her voice small.

Sophie exhaled, a faint smile tugging her lips. “Oh, it’s okay. I think we should head home now.”

Aria nodded quietly, still rubbing her shoulder, and together they started walking down the dimly lit street, the tension slowly fading into an awkward kind of comfort.

--

Hardin paced around the office, returning to his phone every minute. He checked the time—6 p.m. He had been expecting a response from the last authoress since morning, but no reply had come through. With every passing hour, his irritation deepened.

“Doesn’t she check her phone or email? Which writer in this age spends so much time away from their phone?” he muttered under his breath, stopping by the window to calm himself.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and stared outside. Then a dark thought crossed his mind, What if she’s dead? Perhaps an accident or something?He shuddered at the idea and quickly turned away from the window, taking a sip from the coffee Stephen had bought him earlier. Walking back to his desk, he checked if his notification sound was on, then opened his email again. Still nothing.

A loud sigh escaped him. His eyes drifted to Stephen, who was snoring softly on the couch at the far end of the office. Hardin hissed, shaking his head as he approached to smack him awake—but just then, his phone pinged. He froze, then snatched it up. At last—

A response from the long-awaited VIP. A huge smile spread across Hardin’s face—only to vanish the moment he opened the message. He stared at the screen for a long while, as though struggling to process what he was reading.

Minutes passed before he finally snapped out of his miserable daze and let out a guttural scream.

“A-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-R-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-G-H-H-H-H!”

Hardin slammed his fist against the table. Stephen jolted awake, eyes wide with alarm. He looked around in panic before settling his gaze on Hardin.

“What the hell, man?” Stephen yelled, realizing nothing dangerous was happening.

He dragged himself off the couch and walked over to Hardin, whose head was buried in his arms. When he got closer, he peeked at the phone lying on the desk.

“I’m usually the one with this reaction,” Stephen muttered. “Why are you so worked up when you could just use the—” he gestured dramatically, “—face card?”

“I’ve been waiting the whole damn day,” Hardin ground out between clenched teeth.

Stephen placed his hands on Hardin’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Chill, handsome. She’s a girl, after all. It can’t be that hard. Just do what you always do.”

“Thought you hated it, huh?” Hardin shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You were ranting about how unfair it is,” Hardin reminded sharply.

“Forget that. It’s past anyway,” Stephen muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he turned and walked away from Hardin.

Hardin exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration as he watched Stephen flop back onto the couch like nothing had happened.