“We did it,” Zayn echoes, his eyes finding mine across the desk.
And then everything happens in a blur. Zayn walks around the desk, grabs my chair, and turns me to face him. His hands touch my face, his tattooed fingers soft against my skin, gentle as promises.
“Sophie,” he whispers, like he’s asking me something.
I don’t say anything back. My body reacts before I can think. I reach up and pull his face down to mine. We kiss, and the five years apart vanish like smoke.
The kiss tastes like bad coffee and worry and hope all mixed together. His lips feel warm and familiar, and I lose myself in him completely. His hands move to my waist, lifting me up from the chair. My fingers run through his hair, pulling him closer, like I’m trying to make up for all the lost time between us, like I’m drowning and he’s air.
I barely notice when the office door clicks shut, Dr. Martinez leaving to give us privacy, but all I can focus on is Zayn’s heart beating against mine, his hands holding my waist, and how he kisses me like someone finally coming home after years of exile.
He pulls me onto his chair without breaking the kiss. I’ve missed this for five years—how he tastes, how his heart pounds under my hand, how his breath catches when I touch his hair. My body knows his, like riding a bike you never forget. Thechair makes noise as I move closer, my knee sliding between his. Everything feels new but familiar at the same time, like remembering a song you thought you’d forgotten.
His hands travel up my spine, pulling me flush against him until I’m straddling his lap. The chair rolls backward and hits the desk. We don’t stop. I touch the tattoos on his neck, feeling his pulse racing under my fingers, wild and erratic. He makes a sound that I feel against my lips and all through my body, vibrating down to my bones.
Then reality hits me hard.
What am I doing?
I pull back so fast I almost fall, pushing against his chest. The chair rolls backward. My hip hits the desk hard, and a stack of files falls to the floor with a loud sound. Papers scatter everywhere across the carpet like confetti. “This doesn’t change anything,” I say, my voice shaky. My legs feel weak. His taste lingers on my lips like evidence.
Zayn stands up, breathing hard. His hair is messy from my hands, his tie crooked. “It changes everything,” he says, staring right at me.
I back up until I hit the wall, shaking my head. “No. It was just … adrenaline. We were happy about saving the clinic.”
“That’s not true.” He sounds wounded. “Don’t do that, Sophie. Don’t act like this isn’t real.”
“Real?” I try to laugh but it comes out like a sob. “What’s real is we’ve done this before. What’s real is you left once, and you’ll leave again.”
“I’m not leaving.” He steps toward me, and I press harder against the wall.
“Not now. But later?” My voice gets louder as all my fears come pouring out like water through a broken dam. “What about next month? Next year? When someone offers you a big job in a big city?”
“I already said no to that job!” He raises his voice too. “I told Cameron no. I told you that.”
“What about when the next big job comes along? Or the one after that?” Tension radiates down my arms as I push my hair back. “This town is too small for you, Zayn. It always was. You need more than Bellrose can offer. More than the clinic. More than—” I can’t finish.
“More than what?” he steps closer. “Just say it, Sophie.”
“More than me!” The words burst out like I’ve been holding them in forever, like lancing an infected wound. “I wasn’t enough to keep you here!”
The room goes completely silent. I’m fighting not to cry. Zayn’s face turns white, like my words physically hurt him, like I slapped him.
“Is that really what you think?” he asks quietly. “That you weren’t enough?”
I hug myself, feeling cold even though the office is warm. “Five years ago you had to choose, Zayn. Your big career or me. And you picked your career.” Tears run down my face, and I hate crying in front of him. “You packed up and left for Seattle without even trying to make us work.”
“I was young and dumb,” he says, his hands in fists at his sides like he’s stopping himself from touching me. “I thought I was doing what was right. I thought?—”
“You thought what? That I’d just wait around? That your ambitions mattered more than us? My throat tightens as all the hurt I’ve kept locked away comes flooding back, five years of pain pouring out all at once. “And now you’re back, you built this perfect house filled with everything I wanted, you bring me coffee every morning, you remember every tiny detail I shared?—”
“Because I love you!” His voice cracks. “I’ve loved you since you were eighteen years old. I never stopped loving you, Sophie. Not for one single day.”
He’s never talked like this before—like he’s laying everything bare, like he’s stripped himself of armor. The old Zayn kept his feelings hidden. This Zayn looks like he’s breaking apart.
“Then why did you leave?” I whisper the question that’s kept me up at night for years.
He steps closer, and I stay frozen. “Because loving you that intensely terrified me. Because I thought I needed to prove myself worthy of you. Because I was foolish enough to believe a prestigious job and money mattered more than waking up beside you every morning.” His voice drops lower. “It took me five years to understand what actually matters, Sophie. And it’s you. It’s always been you.”
