Sophia woke to sunlight streaming through her windows.
For a moment, she just lay there, eyes closed, feeling the warmth on her face.
Then, slowly, her hand came up—fingers brushing against her cheek.
The same spot.
Jane's lips had been.
A smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it.
Soft. Unbidden. Genuine.
She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling, her chest feeling lighter than it had in weeks.
Jane kissed me.
Well, on the cheek. But still.
Sophia sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair, the smile still lingering.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror across the room—hair tousled, eyes bright, that ridiculous smile still on her face.
She looked... happy.
When was the last time she'd looked like that?
Sophia stood, padding across the cool floor toward the bathroom.
The morning routine began—shower, skincare, the familiar rhythm of getting ready.
But today, it felt different.
Lighter.
She stood in front of her closet, fingers brushing over the fabrics.
Today she chose a soft ivory blouse, tailored charcoal trousers, a camel blazer. Elegant but understated.
She pulled her long dark hair into a low ponytail, then changed her mind and left it down, brushing it until it fell in smooth waves past her shoulders.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn it down to work.
As she reached for her earrings, she caught herself humming.
Off-key.
Completely off-key.
She stopped mid-note, staring at her reflection.
"What are you doing?" she muttered to herself.
But the smile came back anyway.
She finished getting ready, grabbed her bag, and headed out.
The drive to the hospital was smooth, unhurried.
Sophia's fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel as she waited at a red light, her mind drifting.
Jane's voice. The way she'd said, He's not you.
The kiss.
That impossibly soft, fleeting kiss.
Sophia's chest tightened—but in a good way. The kind of tightness that felt like hope.
As she drove past the familiar stretch of road, her eyes flicked toward Mr. Ben's café.
The morning crowd was filtering in and out, the windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside.
Jane probably isn't there, Sophia thought.
She had classes in the morning. She'd mentioned that once.
Still, Sophia found herself slowing down slightly, glancing at the entrance.
Then she shook her head, smiling at herself. "Get it together, Whitmore."
The light turned green.
She drove on.
The hospital greeted her with its usual hum—voices, footsteps, the soft beeping of monitors in the distance.
Sophia walked through the halls, her heels clicking softly, her shoulders a little less tense than usual.
Clara was waiting at the nurses' station, coffee in hand, eyebrows raised. "Well, well, well. Look who's glowing."
Sophia blinked. "I'm not glowing."
"You are. You're practically radiating. What happened? Did you win the lottery? Discover a miracle cure? Finally get eight hours of sleep?"
Sophia set her bag down, ignoring the question. "What's on the schedule?"
"Nice deflection." Clara handed her a tablet. "Rounds first. Post-op in 304 needs checking. Then you've got a consult at eleven and a follow-up in the cardiology wing at two."
Sophia scanned the list, nodding. "Got it."
Clara leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. "So... how was the dinner?"
Sophia's expression flickered—just for a second. "It was... fine."
"Fine? That's all I get?"
"For now, yes."
Clara studied her, then grinned. "You're holding out on me. But fine. I'll get it out of you eventually."
Sophia's lips twitched. "Good luck with that."
She headed toward the ward, tablet in hand, her steps lighter than usual.
The morning passed in a blur of patients, charts, and careful observations.
But even as Sophia moved through her rounds, even as she spoke with patients and adjusted treatment plans, a small part of her mind kept drifting.
To Jane.
To the way she'd looked last night in that dress.
To the warmth of her voice when she'd said goodnight.
By the time the afternoon rolled around, Sophia found herself back in her office, the door closed, the quiet pressing in around her.
She sat at her desk, staring at her phone.
Her fingers hovered over Jane's contact.
Should I text her?
What would she even say?
Thank you for last night?
I can't stop thinking about you?
Please kiss me again, but not on the cheek this time?
Sophia exhaled, setting the phone down.
"I won't think about what Ethan said," she murmured to herself.
But the thought crept in anyway.
Ethan wanted Jane's number. Wanted to ask her out.
And Sophia had agreed to help.
Her stomach twisted.
She picked up her phone again, staring at the screen.
Then, before she could overthink it, she started typing.
"Hi. Just wanted to check in. How are you today?"
She stared at the message.
Too casual? Too formal?
She deleted it.
Typed again:
"Hey. Hope your classes went well today."
Better. Still safe.
She hit send before she could change her mind.
Then set the phone down and waited.
Her heart thudding louder than it should.
Jane pushed open the door to the hostel room, dropping her bag on the floor with a tired sigh.
The room was empty. Mia had a late class today.
The silence felt heavier than usual.
Jane kicked off her shoes and moved toward the bathroom, peeling off her jacket and tossing it onto her bed.
The shower was hot, the steam filling the small space as Jane stood under the spray, letting the water wash away the exhaustion of the day.
But even here, her mind wouldn't quiet.
Last night.
The dinner. Marissa's words. Sophia's hand in hers.
The kiss.
Jane closed her eyes, water running down her face.
What was I thinking?
She'd acted on impulse. On something she couldn't name but couldn't ignore.
And now... now she had no idea what came next.
She finished showering, wrapped herself in a towel, and changed into soft sweatpants and an oversized hoodie.
Her hair was still damp as she sat on her bed, pulling her knees up to her chest.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Jane glanced at it, her heart skipping.
Sophia.
Her breath caught.
She picked up the phone, unlocking it with trembling fingers.
"Hey. Hope your classes went well today."
Jane stared at the message, her chest tightening.
She texted me.
Just a simple check-in. Nothing heavy. Nothing complicated.
But it felt like more.
Jane's thumb hovered over the keyboard.
What should she say?
She typed:
"They were okay. Long, but okay. How was your day?"
She hesitated, then added:
"And... thanks for last night. For everything."
She hit send before she could second-guess herself.
Then sat there, phone in hand, waiting.
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
Jane's heart thudded.
"My day was good. Better than expected, actually."
Jane smiled despite herself.
Another message came through:
"You don't have to thank me. You were the one who handled everything so well. I should be thanking you."
Jane bit her lip, typing:
"Pretty sure we're stuck in an endless loop of thanking each other now."
The response came quickly:
"Seems that way. We should probably stop."
Jane laughed softly, typing:
"Okay. I'll stop if you stop."
"Deal."
A pause.
Then another message from Sophia:
A pause.
Jane waited, wondering if Sophia would say more.
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Jane's chest tightened.
Then, finally:
"Jane?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you were there last night."
Jane stared at the screen, her heart doing that thing again—that fluttering, uncontrollable thing.
She typed slowly:
"Me too."
She hit send, then set the phone down, pressing her hands to her face.
What was happening?
This was supposed to be pretend.
But nothing about the way her heart was racing felt fake.
Her phone buzzed again.
She picked it up.
"Goodnight, Jane."
Jane smiled, typing back:
"Goodnight, Sophia."
She set the phone down, pulling her blanket up around her shoulders.
And for the first time in a long time, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.
Sophia sat on her couch, phone in hand, staring at the last message.
"Goodnight, Sophia."
Her chest felt warm.
She set the phone down slowly, leaning back against the cushions.
Tomorrow. Coffee. Just the two of them.
No pretending. No performance.
Just... them.
Sophia closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.
For a moment, she let herself imagine it.
Sitting across from Jane. Talking. Laughing.
Maybe reaching across the table and taking her hand.
Not because she had to.
But because she wanted to.
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced at it.
Ethan.
The warmth drained from her chest.
"So, about that number..."
Sophia stared at the message, her jaw tightening.
She didn't respond.
Not tonight.
Tonight, she wanted to hold onto this feeling a little longer.
The hope. The warmth. The possibility.
Tomorrow, she'd figure out what to do about Ethan.
But tonight?
Tonight was hers.
And Jane's.