As expected, her two best friends were already waiting inside her house like they owned the place. Of course, they did—at least emotionally. They knew exactly where she kept the spare key "for emergencies," and apparently, this situation qualified.
Sofia sighed. She had hoped for a few moments of solitude to gather her thoughts, maybe even pretend last night never happened. But she should've known better. These two? They had a sixth sense for drama—and heartbreak.
"You must tell us every single detail, Sofia," Elise demanded, arms crossed and eyebrows raised with that look that said she wouldn't take no for an answer.
"I really don't want to talk about it," she muttered, kicking off her shoes as she stepped inside. "Not yet."
"Too bad," Anne chimed in from the kitchen, her voice light but firm. "We already made breakfast and washed your laundry. The least you could do is give us the juicy details while we eat."
Elise waved a plate of pancakes under her nose like a bribe. "Spill it. We're starving—for food and gossip."
Sofia bit her lip, her heart pounding. They were her safe space—always had been. And despite her hesitation, she knew she couldn't bottle this up. Not with them.
She sank into a chair at the kitchen table, her shoulders slumping. "Fine," she said softly. "But you're not allowed to judge me."
Elise and Anne leaned in simultaneously, their expressions already halfway between concern and excitement.
"No judgment," they said in unison. "Just start from the beginning."
Wow." Anne leaned back dramatically in her chair, eyes wide with disbelief. "I don't know if I should hug you or slap you right now. I mean—you?" She pointed a finger at Sofia. "You, the same woman who made a vow to wait until marriage, just gave it away to a man whose name you don't even know?"
Sofia narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "You promised you wouldn't judge me," she shot back, her voice defensive but weak, like she was trying to convince herself just as much.
"I am trying!" Anne protested, throwing up her hands. "I'm kidding, okay? Kidding. I respect you and your choices, you know that. But... damn, Sofia. I mean—" Her voice dropped to a teasing tone. "If I didn't have a boyfriend, I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat. That man sounds like a walking sin."
Sofia let out a breathy laugh, covering her face with both hands. "He was... different," she admitted, voice muffled. "It wasn't just his looks. It was the way he touched me, the way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the room."
Elise, who had been quietly sipping her coffee, gently placed her mug back on the table. "Then why didn't you tell him your name?" she asked, tilting her head. "He asked you twice, right?"
Sofia's smile faded. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she stared down at the table. "Because it wasn't supposed to mean anything. It was just one night. I wanted to forget John, the heartbreak, the pressure. I didn't want him to know me. I didn't want to know him." Her voice trembled near the end, and both friends fell quiet.
"But now," she whispered, almost like a confession, "I can't stop thinking about him."
Anne reached across the table and took her hand. "It's okay. You don't owe anyone an explanation. Not even him. But you also don't have to pretend it didn't mean something. Maybe it did. And maybe that's not a bad thing."
Sofia looked up, eyes glassy but grateful. The ache in her chest wasn't just from what she had lost—it was from the part of her that knew she had run before discovering what might have happened if she'd stayed. If she had woken up still wrapped in his arms. If he had asked her to stay.
"Why did you leave without saying goodbye?" Anne asked gently, her voice soft with concern instead of judgment.
Sofia let out a shaky breath, pressing her fingers together. "Because I had no business being there in the first place," she said, her voice raw with truth. "Anne, if you'd seen his cars... his mansion... even the way his staff looked at me like I didn't belong—then you'd understand. I'm not part of that world."
She paused, swallowing hard.
"I just got dumped by someone I spent years loving," she continued, her voice cracking slightly. "I gave everything to John—my time, my trust, my heart—and in the end, I still wasn't enough. I couldn't bear the thought of waking up and seeing that same rejection in someone else's eyes. Especially not his."
"Correction—you didn't give John everything," Elise said gently, her voice firm with conviction. "You held on to the one thing he didn't deserve. And that's why he cheated because he couldn't control you. I'm glad you didn't give that part of yourself to someone who didn't see your worth." Anna declared.
"Hey," Anne said softly, "and you didn't run from that hot stranger because you're weak. You ran because you're still healing. And you've got every right to protect your heart, even if it doesn't make sense to the rest of the world."
Sofia blinked fast, her chest tightening.
"You're not out of anyone's league," Elise added. "And even if you were, that doesn't mean you don't deserve someone who'll look at you like you're theirs. Not someone who makes you feel like a guest in their life."
Sofia's lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, tears welled in her eyes again—this time not from shame, but from the overwhelming sense of love and safety. She didn't know what her future with that stranger held, or if he would ever come looking for her. But in that moment, surrounded by her two best friends, she felt she was enough.
She was still reeling from John's betrayal—the sting of his infidelity lingered like a bruise she couldn't hide. But what unsettled her more was the ache she couldn't name. She hated admitting it, even to herself, but it wasn't John she was yearning for.
It was him—the stranger.
His touch haunted her more than John's ever did. His kiss had burned into her memory, igniting something wild and unfamiliar, something that made everything she shared with her longtime boyfriend feel pale and forgettable.
She had spent years believing John was the one—that their love was safe, stable, real. But one night, a man she didn't even know had awakened a hunger, a craving for something deeper, rawer, more real than anything she'd ever had before.
And that truth hurt more than the betrayal itself.
Anne and Elise stayed by her side, refusing to leave no matter how many times Sofia insisted she would be fine. They didn't buy it—not for a second. And though she tried to put on a brave face, deep down, she was grateful. Grateful for their presence, for their quiet understanding, for the way they filled the silence with warmth and comfort without demanding more than she could give.
If they hadn't been there, she wasn't sure what she would've done. Maybe she would've fallen apart. Maybe she would've convinced herself it didn't matter. But with them beside her—cooking breakfast, folding laundry, chatting like everything was normal—she felt less alone. Less ashamed. More human.
And for Sofia, in this fragile, uncertain moment, that meant everything.
Then Monday came—and with it, reality.
Sofia dragged herself out of bed, put on her best neutral expression, and prepared to face another day at work… and the painful truth that waited there. She'd been dreading this day all weekend, knowing she might run into Carla. The office rumor mill worked faster than any machine, and though she hadn't heard anything concrete yet, she had a sinking feeling that wouldn't last long.
She was grateful, at least, that Carla worked in a different department. It gave her some room to breathe, some space to bury herself in deadlines and spreadsheets and the artificial peace of productivity. She kept her head down and avoided common areas, skipped lunch, and ignored the curious glances from colleagues who had clearly heard whispers of the drama.
By the time the clock hit seven, the office was mostly empty. Sofia let out a breath, packed up her things, and headed out—hoping to slip away unnoticed.
But fate had other plans.
She saw them before they saw her—Carla standing on the curb, her posture confident and smug, and John pulling up in the car Sofia used to ride in. Her heart sank as she watched him get out, walk up to Carla, and—without hesitation—kiss her.
Right there.
In front of their officemates. In front of the building, she'd worked at for years. In front of people who still remembered her as John's girlfriend.
Sofia froze. Her fingers tightened around her bag, and her breath caught in her throat. Then, instinctively, she turned away before anyone could catch the storm in her eyes. Her heart pounded as she walked in the opposite direction, past coworkers whose stares burned into her back, their silence louder than gossip.
She and John had been together for five years. Five years of memories, shared holidays, quiet moments and plans for the future. And yet, here he was—parading a betrayal like it was a celebration.
By the time she reached the bus stop, her legs were trembling. The sting of humiliation was fresh, but beneath it, something unexpected lingered.
Relief.
She hated to admit it—even to herself—but instead of John's face haunting her, it was someone else's. A stranger's. A man whose name she didn't even know, whose touch had left a deeper imprint on her than years of John's affection ever had.
The memory of that night still clung to her like a secret. She didn't regret it. If anything, it gave her peace because she hadn't been abandoned. She had walked away. On her own terms.
As she sat quietly on the bus ride home, watching the city lights blur past the window, a small, fragile hope bloomed in her chest. Maybe fate hadn't finished writing their story. Perhaps she would see him again, if destiny allowed it.
And if she did, this time, she wouldn't run from him.