Peace Offering
1429 Words
Sofia woke to the softest knock on her bedroom door.
At first, she didn’t even move. Her eyes remained closed, her brain floating somewhere between sleep and irritation. Her body still felt heavy from working the night shift, and her mind replayed flashes of last night’s chaos, the café, the laughter, Henry’s quiet smile and then Jasmine and Denzel doing acrobatics on the dining table like they were auditioning for a p**n role.
Another knock came. Softer this time.
“Sofia?” Jasmine’s voice called quietly. “Hey, it’s me.”
Sofia groaned into her pillow. “Come in” she mumbled, though she wasn’t moving yet. She forced her eyes open and sat up slowly, her hair ridiculous, sticking in three different directions.
The door cracked open, and Jasmine peeked her head inside. “Good morning, sunshine.” She held up two steaming cups of coffee like a peace offering.
Sofia narrowed her eyes. “Is that a bribe?”
“Definitely,” Jasmine said, stepping inside. “You deserve at least a peace treaty after… you know.”
Sofia exhaled dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”
Jasmine placed the coffee in Sofia’s hands, and Sofia lifted it like it was the holy grail. “Bless you,” she whispered.
“I figured caffeine was the least I could offer for traumatizing you.”
Sofia made a gagging noise, her face twisting. “Jasmine, I still cannot believe what I saw.”
Jasmine winced. “I know, babe. I know.”
“No, you don’t.” Sofia pointed at her with the hand not holding coffee. “You were on the dining table. The dining table where we eat. My eggs have touched that table, Jasmine, my biscuits, my chin-chin, my life.”
Jasmine burst into laughter, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh my God, stop. It wasn’t that dramatic.”
“It was exactly that dramatic,” Sofia said, shuddering. “The angles… the legs… his ass, I can’t unsee it. I saw way too much. I saw more than your gynecologist ever has.”
Jasmine inhaled sharply. “Don’t talk about my man’s ass like that.”
“Who cares?” Sofia grumbled, sipping her coffee and still looking offended. “Honestly, you guys looked disgusting. Like you could pass for a p**n set that didn’t get enough funding.”
Jasmine fell on the bed laughing. “You’re a clown.”
“And you’re nasty.”
They both burst into laughter.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Jasmine said, wiping her eyes. “Let’s change the topic before you faint. Tell me about you. How was your drink with Henry? And who the hell is Henry?”
Sofia rolled her eyes. “He’s not mysterious. He’s the guy from VIP I told you about, the one I first talked to the night Denzel came to the club.”
“Ohhh,” Jasmine drawled. “Mr Sad Eyes.”
“He does not have sad eyes.”
“Yes, he does,” Jasmine insisted. “What about him?”
Sofia sat up straighter. “So, turns out his girlfriend committed suicide.”
Jasmine’s eyebrows shot up to Mars. “She what?”
“Yeah. And he’s been going through therapy and everything.”
“Aww,” Jasmine said, then paused. “Wait, hold on therapy? Girlfriend suicide? VIP man? Are you okay? Why did you go on a late-night drink with a walking trauma?”
“Jasmine!”
“What?” Jasmine raised her palms. “You have to admit, this is giving emotional entanglement.”
Sofia rolled her eyes. “He’s trying to heal. And he’s actually a lawyer.”
“Oh?” Jasmine grinned slowly. “A lawyer, you say?”
“Yes,” Sofia said, laughing at herself. “I didn’t believe it at first, but he is.”
“Girl, that explains the clean haircut and calculated smile.”
“He literally told me he was impressed when I said I wanted to study law.”
“Ohhh…” Jasmine teased. “So you can call him your learned colleague, or whatever they say when they see each other.”
Sofia hit her with a pillow. “Shut up.”
Jasmine giggled. “Continue.”
“And he’s really… kind,” Sofia said softly, the smile on her face unforced. “Like, genuinely kind.”
Jasmine eyed her dramatically. “Oh God. She likes him.”
“I don’t like him,” Sofia shot back too fast.
“You like him.”
“I don’t!”
“You do.”
“Jasmine, I don’t.”
Jasmine cackled and almost fell off the bed. “Okay okay,” she breathed, “so what else happened?”
“Well…” Sofia hesitated. “He invited me to his late girlfriend’s funeral tomorrow.”
Jasmine’s entire face scrunched up. “Why? Why would he do that?”
“It’s not that deep,” Sofia argued. “He just needs support. He’s still grieving.”
“Yeah, and he has a mother,” Jasmine fired back. “He has sisters. Cousins. Classmates. Why does my friend need to be the stand in therapist?”
Sofia laughed. “Stop.”
“I’m serious!” Jasmine said, throwing her hands up. “Is it even legally okay? To carry your crush to your dead girlfriend’s burial??”
“Jasmine!” Sofia shoved her lightly.
“That’s weird!” Jasmine insisted. “How will you sit there? How will you comfort him without looking like the next contestant?”
Sofia was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.
“And why did she kill herself?” Jasmine asked suddenly.
Sofia froze. “How am I supposed to know?”
“You’re his new girlfriend!”
“I am NOT his girlfriend.”
“Whatever.” Jasmine waved her hand. “You should know why the old one killed herself so you don’t end up killing yourself too.”
“Jasmine!” Sofia smacked her with the pillow. “Don’t say that! That’s so disrespectful!”
“You know what’s disrespectful?” Jasmine said dramatically. “The dead. They’re disrespectful because they left us to suffer taxes and heartbreak on earth.”
Sofia choked laughing. “You’re insane.”
“Thank you.” Jasmine bowed.
The two of them dissolved into laughter again, the easy, familiar kind that filled the room with warmth. Jasmine climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged as Sofia finished her coffee.
“Anyway,” Jasmine said, calmer now, “if the guy is good for you, sure. If he’s not, I’ll pepper-spray him.”
Sofia smiled softly. “Thank you.”
Jasmine grinned. “So what do you think about Denzel 's ass, it looked good right?”
“You're not normal, just so you know, his ass looked weird.”
“Liar!!!”
More laughter.
For a moment, everything felt light again. And Sofia realized how much she valued these moments, their honesty, their jokes, their insane back-and-forth.
…………
The phone beeped as the call ended. Scott dropped it on his desk and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead.
Dante’s tone still echoed in his ears tight, sharp, irritated. The Casagrande project was on a strict timeline, and the documentation issue had cost them hours. They weren’t behind, not yet, but they were close.
Scott exhaled, leaning back in his chair. His office was bright, sunlight pouring through the tall glass windows, but none of it eased the pressure drumming inside his chest.
He stared at the open blueprints spread out across his desk, but his mind wasn’t fully on the lines and measurements.
Instead it drifted to her.
Sofia.
He didn’t mean to think about her. He really didn’t. He had fifty things he needed to get done before 2:00pm, and all of them mattered.
But he still saw her face from last night her smile, her softness, the spark in her eyes. And then he saw something else, a man. The guy she left the club with.
Scott didn’t know who he was. A friend? A cousin? A boyfriend?
He didn’t want to assume. He didn’t want to overthink. He hated how easy it was for his brain to create stories that didn’t exist. For all he knew, the guy could just be someone she knew from work.
But something about it bothered him.
He didn’t even know when he stood up from his chair until he realized he was already pacing.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
- Writer
