Chasing dreams

Chapter Four

Sophie groaned as she woke up to see Rihanna still sprawled in the bed beside her. The sight made her sigh — a long, tired sigh that said, “Not again.” She had met Rihanna on the bed when she got back from work, just as she’d expected, with the entire house looking like it had survived a small tornado.

“I thought you said you wanted to go to Calvin’s,” Sophie blurted out, freezing on the spot as her eyes swept across the mess. Takeout boxes were scattered across the floor, half-eaten fries peeked from their containers, and Rihanna’s clothes — including the ones she’d worn earlier — were everywhere.

Sophie’s gaze trailed upward until it landed on Rihanna, who was now lounging in one of Sophie’s hoodies, her legs tangled in the sheets, thumbs flying over her phone keyboard like nothing was wrong.

“Figured I needed to hear about your first day of work. You know, you only got me,” Rihanna said casually, not even glancing up. “So you probably need someone to rant excitedly to, you know?”

Sophie’s jaw clenched. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. “As thoughtful as that sounds, I really wish you had left already. Because the look of this apartment just drained all the excitement and energy left in me,” she said through gritted teeth, her tone tight but controlled. As exciting and fun as having Rihanna around could be, Sophie knew what always followed — the aftermath. The chaos, the cleaning, the reorganization of a home she barely had time to maintain. It was enough to make her reconsider every “sleepover” invitation or friendly visit.Because Sophie always ended up doing the cleaning too — even at Rihanna’s apartment — where the chaos was almost a personality of its own. The place was always so messy she could hardly find a spot to sit whenever she visited, which was nearly every weekend. The most annoying part? Rihanna kept promising to change, to “get it together,” but never actually lifted a finger.

And that—that—was one of the reasons Sophie secretly missed Rihanna’s ex. At least when he was around, Rihanna made an effort. She cleaned up, folded clothes, even lit candles to make her apartment smell nice. But ever since he left, everything had gone downhill again—back to her tornado lifestyle.

“Oh my God,” Rihanna gasped, clutching her chest like she’d just been betrayed, her eyes wide with exaggerated hurt. “Are you really saying you don’t want me here?” Her tone was dramatic enough to win an Oscar. Sophie exhaled sharply, fighting the urge to scream. “You should know better than to pull that fake emotional trick on me,” she said, her voice clipped but calm—too calm. “And the answer to your question is yes, if you can’t be organized.”

Her words came out sharper than she intended, but she didn’t take them back. Instead, she dropped her bag on the couch with a loud thud, kicked off her shoes, and started picking up the mess—empty cups, takeaway boxes, and crumpled wrappers that seemed to multiply every second she looked around.

“Girl, you should really grow out of this habit,” Sophie continued, her tone rising with frustration. “I’ve been taking it since our college days, and I won’t be taking it anymore.”

Her movements grew brisker with every word—snatching wrappers, tossing them into a bin, her jaw tight with pent-up annoyance.

Rihanna, meanwhile, watched her quietly, her dramatic expression fading into a small, guilty pout. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sophie lifted a hand sharply, her glare stopping Rihanna cold.

The silence that followed was thick—only the soft rustle of Sophie cleaning filled the room.

“And don’t you give me that damn excuse of being busy,” Sophie snapped, her tone sharp enough to slice through the air, “when you’ve been on your phone all day long—probably watching reels or those recipe videos you’ll never cook!”

Rihanna’s open mouth snapped shut immediately. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of Sophie’s hoodie as guilt flickered across her face. Still, she mumbled under her breath, “Well, I did other important things, you know…”

Sophie shot her a look that could’ve burned through steel. Rihanna sighed, slid off the bed, and started helping with the mess. She reached for the things Sophie had already picked up, trying to take over. Sophie shoved them into her hands with an irritated huff before slumping heavily onto the couch, exhaustion and annoyance mixing in her eyes.

“Chill, girl,” Rihanna said quickly, her tone light but cautious, “how about I make it up to you, huh?”

Sophie raised a brow, saying nothing, only watching as Rihanna turned back to arrange the room properly this time. Rihanna glanced over her shoulder a few times, catching Sophie’s eyes on her, and then she spun around fully, a grin tugging at her lips.

“Come on,” she said, playfulness creeping into her voice again. “I mean it.”

Sophie groaned tiredly, rubbing her temples. “In what way?” she asked finally, her voice low but laced with curiosity. Rihanna’s grin widened, slow and mischievous, as she dropped the last bit of trash into the bin. Then she wiped her hands dramatically and moved behind Sophie with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Come on,” Rihanna said with a playful lilt in her voice, “I know you missed my cooking. How about I make your favorite, huh?”

Before Sophie could respond, Rihanna’s hands were already on her shoulders, massaging the tense knots with surprising gentleness. Sophie let out a low groan of satisfaction despite herself, her eyelids fluttering a little.

“Are you bribing me right now?” Sophie asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though her voice betrayed the hint of delight she felt. Truthfully, she had missed Rihanna’s cooking—the taste, the aroma, the way it always filled the small apartment with warmth. Her favorites? Hell, she couldn’t possibly say no to that. For that offer alone, she could forgive Rihanna for almost anything.

“Is that what you call it?” Rihanna teased, chuckling softly as she stopped the massage and moved around to Sophie’s side. With a gentle push, she nudged Sophie toward the bed.

“You should rest after a long day,” she said, sweeping the floor with swift motions. “You can tell me all about it when you wake up.”

Sophie opened her mouth to reply, but Rihanna cut in quickly, raising a finger as if she already knew what was coming.

“I know, I know—you don’t have a single decent thing in your refrigerator,” Rihanna said with mock exasperation. “I’ll go get what I need.”

Sophie could only smile faintly, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion. Within seconds, her breathing softened, and she drifted into sleep, the faint sounds of Rihanna bustling around fading into a distant hum.

Sophie opened her mouth to wake Rihanna up but stopped midway, her voice dying on her lips. She stared at her friend’s peaceful, unbothered face and let out a quiet sigh. There was no point disturbing her. Let her sleep, she thought, forcing a small smile. Maybe she needed the quiet more than she realized.

“I need the air and the space, after all,” Sophie muttered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached for a hoodie from her closet and pulled it over her worn-out jeans, then grabbed her earpiece. The moment she stepped outside, the evening breeze kissed her skin, and the soft hum of the city wrapped around her like a gentle lullaby. The scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby stall mixed with the faint perfume of night jasmine, and for a fleeting second, she felt lighter.

The night in New York was beautiful—calm but alive. Cars passed lazily, streetlights painted the roads gold, and the world seemed to hum in rhythm with her slow footsteps. She slipped her earpiece in, letting soft music fill her ears. Nothing beats soft music under a serene night, she mused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

But her peace didn’t last long. Her thoughts drifted—inevitably—to Massachusetts. To the home that no longer felt like one. Her smile faltered. The memory of her father’s laughter with his new family clawed at her chest. That house had once been filled with her laughter too—until Laurel came. The woman had walked into their lives like a sweet storm and left Sophie’s world in ruins.

Laurel… that witch.

The bitterness surged up like bile as Sophie remembered the way her father had looked at her before she left—cold, distant, almost like she was a stranger. And Laurel’s smug little smile that day, standing with her daughter like they’d won some twisted game. Sophie had clenched her jaw then, silently vowing that one day, she’d make them eat their triumph.

Meanwhile, across the city, Hardin was pacing in his office again, his movements sharp and restless. He had sent countless emails, calls, and contracts before—but none had made him feel like this one did. None had unnerved him like Sophie Walker. He’d finally hit send on his reply, fingers tightening slightly as he did.

He’d written politely, asking her to meet—just once. If she still wants to walk away afterward, fine, he told himself. But his mind refused to quiet. Her story… it wasn’t just good. It was extraordinary. The kind of writing that stays with you long after you’ve closed the page. There was pain in her words, but also defiance—like she was fighting something bigger than herself. It made him curious, almost restless.

He leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the glowing screen before whispering to himself, “Sophie Walker… who the hell are you?”

For a moment, silence filled the room. The ticking clock, the faint hum of the heater—it all faded under the sound of his own heartbeat. He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled deeply. Something about her—the way she wrote, the refusal in her tone—felt familiar yet distant. And it made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t like.

He snapped his laptop shut and stood, unable to sit still any longer. The air in his huge house felt too heavy, too confined. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

Outside, the night stretched wide and calm. The stars above shimmered like scattered diamonds, and for the first time in a while, Hardin felt the quiet tug of peace. The city lights flickered against his sharp features as he walked down the street, hands tucked into his pockets, his mind still tangled around one name—

Sophie Walker.