When u held my heart

Episode2

– A Face That Felt Familiar

The week had dragged on like an endless shadow. Sofia sat at her desk, her pen tapping against the edge of her notebook as Clara leaned over with that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes.

“You’re not going home to sulk tonight,” Clara declared, arms crossed like a mother scolding a child.

“I wasn’t planning to sulk,” Sofia muttered, eyes still on her notes.

Miriam, who was tidying her desk, let out a laugh. “Clara’s right, Sof. You’ve been working overtime every day. You need air. And not the stale kind from this office.”

Sofia sighed. “I don’t know, girls. I just feel—”

“—like hiding under your blanket? Nope, not happening,” Clara cut in, wagging her finger. “We’re going out. Dinner. Drinks. Laughter. The works.”

“And dessert,” Miriam added with a wink.

Sofia tried to protest, but it was hopeless. With these two, she was outnumbered before the debate even began.

An hour later, the three women strolled into a chic little restaurant on the corner of Westwood Street. The place was buzzing with life—warm golden lights draped from the ceiling, the low hum of laughter filling the air, and a pianist in the corner weaving soft melodies through the room. The air smelled of garlic butter, roasted herbs, and something sweet baking in the oven.

Sofia had to admit: it was perfect.

They were shown to a table by the window, overlooking the glowing street. Clara immediately took the menu like she was planning a five-course feast, while Miriam leaned back, scanning the restaurant with curious eyes.

“Now this is how you end a week,” Clara said dramatically, tossing her hair back. “I deserve a medal for dragging you two here.”

Sofia smiled faintly, settling into her chair. “I suppose I should thank you. It does feel… nice.”

“Nice?” Clara gasped. “Sweetheart, this is divine.”

Miriam chuckled, sipping her water. “Ignore her. She’s already planning her i********: captions.”

As they laughed, Sofia’s gaze drifted, not really looking for anything in particular—until her eyes snagged on someone across the room.

Her breath caught.

He was seated alone at a small table, dressed in a crisp shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, a glass of wine held loosely in his hand. His hair caught the light just right, his jawline sharp, his presence commanding without even trying.

But it wasn’t his looks that stunned her—it was the smile. Slow, deliberate, familiar.

Their eyes locked.

Sofia’s chest tightened as recognition hit her. It was him. The man from the café.

He smiled again, this time warmer, deeper, as if acknowledging a secret only they shared. She froze, her fingers tightening around her fork.

“Earth to Sofia,” Clara teased, snapping her fingers in front of her face. “Who are you staring at?”

Sofia blinked, tearing her gaze away. “No one. I just thought I saw…” Her voice trailed off.

But before Clara could press further, he rose from his table. Her heart leapt as he strode confidently across the room, his steps steady, his eyes fixed only on her.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice smooth and low, carrying just enough weight to silence the chatter at their table.

Miriam raised a brow, Clara smirked, and Sofia… well, Sofia suddenly found herself short of air.

“I thought it was you,” he continued, his lips curving.

Sofia blinked up at him. “I—I’m sorry, but you look familiar. Have we met?”

“Yes.” His smile widened just a fraction. “This morning. At the café. You nearly spilled your coffee when the barista called your name.”

Heat crept up Sofia’s cheeks. She remembered now. The hurried morning, the fleeting glance, the faint smile exchanged before she rushed off. “Oh. That was you.”

Clara’s eyes sparkled. “Well, well, Sofia. Care to introduce us?”

The man extended his hand first to Clara, then to Miriam. “Gabriel,” he said simply. His handshake was firm, confident, practiced.

“And you must be Sofia,” he added, turning back to her. He offered his hand, and when she placed hers in his, something like electricity hummed between them. His grip lingered just a little longer than polite.

Sofia pulled back gently, forcing composure. “Yes. Sofia.”

Miriam gave her a sly smile. Clara leaned forward eagerly. “Care to join us, Gabriel?”

Sofia opened her mouth to protest, but Gabriel’s polite glance made her words stick in her throat. “Only if I’m not intruding,” he said.

“Not at all,” Clara replied before Sofia could object. She gestured to the empty chair. “Sit.”

And so, he did.

The conversation began lightly—Gabriel asked where they worked, Miriam quizzed him on his taste in wine, and Clara, bold as ever, asked if he always made a habit of crossing rooms to talk to strangers.

“Not strangers,” he replied, his gaze flicking back to Sofia. “Just… familiar faces.”

Her chest tightened again, and she quickly reached for her glass, trying to cover the flutter inside.

“You live around here?” Miriam asked.

“Yes, not too far. My office is a few blocks away. Tonight was supposed to be a quiet dinner alone, but…” He shrugged, eyes returning to Sofia. “…fate had other plans.”

Clara smirked so openly Sofia wanted to kick her under the table. Miriam bit back a grin.

When the waiter arrived with their meals, the chatter continued. Clara steered the conversation into playful banter, Miriam asked thoughtful questions, but Gabriel always managed to circle back to Sofia—her favorite meals, her thoughts on books, even her opinion about the pianist’s song choice.

It was subtle but clear. He wasn’t there for Clara or Miriam. He was there for her.

By the time he excused himself, standing with that same composed grace, Sofia felt both relieved and unsettled.

“It was a pleasure meeting you all,” he said, offering a polite nod. His eyes lingered on Sofia one last time. “And you, especially. Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

With that, he walked away, leaving a trail of silence in his wake.

The moment he was out of earshot, Clara leaned across the table, eyes wide. “Oh my God. Who was that? Because, Sofi, if you don’t chase him, I will.”

Miriam chuckled, shaking her head. “The way he looked at you, Sofia… it wasn’t casual. That was a man who recognized something—and wanted more of it.”

Sofia’s cheeks burned as she stirred her pasta absently. “It was nothing. Just… coincidence.”

But her smile betrayed her. And her friends noticed.

Clara leaned back, grinning. “Coincidence, my ass. That was chemistry. Hot, undeniable chemistry.”

Miriam sipped her wine thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s fate. Twice in one day? That doesn’t just happen.”

Sofia shook her head, but the thought stuck. Twice in one day. Fate, or coincidence?

Either way, something told her this wasn’t the last time she’d see Gabriel