Midweek arrived quietly, the rhythm of hospital life already beginning to feel familiar. By the time Sophie finished her shift, the sky had softened into early evening hues — pale gold fading slowly into blue.
Her phone buzzed just as she stepped out of the emergency department.
Amy: Come over for dinner. Nina's been asking for you all day.
A faint warmth settled in Sophie's chest.
I'll be there, she replied.
---
Amy's apartment was warm, lived-in, and gently noisy — the soft clatter of dishes, the faint hum of a cartoon playing in the background, Nina's small laughter drifting from the living room.
"You're late," Amy teased as Sophie stepped inside, already tying an apron around her waist. "Go wash your hands. You're helping me."
Sophie smiled faintly and obeyed, the simple familiarity of the moment easing something inside her.
Dinner was simple — warm rice, soup, and dishes they had shared countless times years ago. Nina talked endlessly between bites, proudly showing Sophie a drawing she had made at school.
"It's us," Nina declared, pointing. "Mama, me, and Auntie Sophie."
Sophie crouched slightly, her voice soft. "It's beautiful."
For a moment, everything felt peaceful. Simple. Untouched by the weight of the past.
---
Later, after Nina had fallen asleep and the apartment settled into quiet, Sophie and Amy sat together in the dim living room, warm tea untouched between them.
Amy studied Sophie carefully.
"You've been avoiding something all week."
Sophie didn't answer immediately.
Amy leaned back slightly. "You saw him, didn't you?"
Sophie's gaze lowered.
"Yes."
Amy's voice softened. "At the dealership?"
Sophie nodded faintly.
"Did he see you?"
"No."
Silence lingered for a moment.
Amy spoke again, more gently now. "Are you afraid to face him… or afraid of what you'll feel when you do?"
Sophie's fingers tightened slightly around her cup.
"I don't know," she admitted quietly. "Five years is a long time. But some things still feel… unfinished."
Amy watched her, understanding more than Sophie said aloud.
"And Nicholas?" Amy asked lightly, shifting the tone.
Sophie looked up. "What about him?"
"He asks about you sometimes," Amy said with a small smile. "You always left before he came around back then."
Sophie didn't respond — but the faintest curiosity crossed her expression.
Before Amy could tease further—
A knock sounded at the door.
Both women froze.
Amy frowned slightly. "At this hour?"
She stood and opened the door.
Nicholas stood there, coat slightly undone, expression calm — until his eyes shifted past Amy.
And landed on Sophie.
He froze.
"Sophie?"
For a moment, no one spoke.
"I… heard you were back," Nicholas said slowly, still surprised. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Sophie stood, composed as always, though faint tension stirred beneath her calm.
"Hello, Nicholas."
He stepped inside cautiously, eyes still studying her — as if confirming she was truly there.
"When did you return?"
"A few days ago."
Nicholas hesitated, then asked quietly, "Does Harley know?"
The room grew still.
Sophie met his gaze, steady but firm.
"…Not from me."
Nicholas understood immediately.
"I see."
A brief silence passed — not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken awareness.
Then Sophie spoke softly.
"Please don't tell him."
Nicholas watched her for a moment, then nodded. "I won't."
He turned slightly toward Amy. "I just stopped by to drop something off. I didn't mean to interrupt."
Amy smiled knowingly. "You never interrupt."
Nicholas gave Sophie one last quiet look — thoughtful, unreadable — before stepping back toward the door.
"Goodnight," he said softly.
Then he left.
---
The apartment returned to quiet.
Amy sat slowly, watching Sophie carefully.
"Well," she said lightly, "that was unexpected."
Sophie exhaled softly, the tension easing just slightly.
"Yes."
Amy leaned forward, her voice warm again. "Come on. We haven't had time to talk properly in years."
Sophie smiled faintly.
And for the rest of the night, the two friends talked — softly, honestly, the past and present weaving together in quiet understanding, while the future waited silently just beyond their reach.