Who are you

“You are mine.”


The words slipped into her ear, low and possessive, a whisper threaded with hunger and danger. His breath burned against her skin, and her body betrayed her, shivering despite the heat that radiated between them.

She wanted to turn, to see his face clearly, to anchor herself in the reality of the voice. But before she could, the dream shattered.


Sophia’s eyes snapped open.


The ceiling greeted her, her ornate chandelier glinting faintly in the early morning light.

The weight of the voice still lingered, wrapping around her like smoke she couldn’t wave away. She lay motionless for a moment, staring, her pulse still drumming from a dream that felt far too real.


That man again.


The stranger.


The same one she had seen in flashes of dreams for months. The same one who’d suddenly appeared in her waking world, the library, His eyes… God, those eyes.


She sat up abruptly, pressing a hand to her temple as if she could massage the thoughts out. Who was he?


“Why do I keep seeing him?” she whispered to herself.


The silence didn’t answer back.


Groaning, Sophia swung her legs over the bed and let her feet touch the cool floor.

The morning breeze drifted through the half-open window, brushing against her bare arms. She tried to laugh at herself.

“You’re insane, Hernandez. Seeing a dream man in real life? What is this, some cheesy romance movie?”


Still, the image of him lingered. The way he looked at her in the library, like recognition.


Her reflection caught her attention, pulling her to the mirror across the room.


Sophia’s short black hair stuck out in uneven tufts, messy from restless sleep. She dragged her fingers through it, untangling, her gaze fixed not on her hair but on her eyes.


“You’re a betrayal, Sophia,” she whispered bitterly. “You should have confirmed. You should’ve known. Instead, you ran.”


Her voice cracked with frustration. She pressed her palm against the mirror, staring at her own tired face as though it might give her answers.


Outside, the city was alive, New York’s orchestra of honking horns, rushing footsteps, distant calls. But inside, Sophia felt caged.


Her parents had seen to that.


Her entire childhood had been painted in isolation: long seasons spent indoors, forbidden from forming friendships, forbidden from mistakes.

Ava had been the exception, the loophole fate granted her. Without Ava, Sophia might have vanished into loneliness entirely.


Yet here she was, obsessing over a man she shouldn’t even know.


“The resemblance is too much”, she thought. “His skin, his eyes, God, they were the same as in the dream. I didn’t see his lips clearly, but I’d swear…”


She shook her head violently, as though trying to physically dislodge the thoughts. Crossing the room, she collapsed onto her cushion and grabbed her phone.


“Pineapple pizza, please,” she muttered after dialing, desperate for a distraction.


But the thoughts clung to her.


Dreaming about someone was one thing. Meeting him in real life, that was madness. Stories like that belonged in fairy tales, not in her reality. And yet… here he was, haunting her sleep and now her days.


She slammed her phone down and marched toward the shower.


The hot spray hit her body in steady streams, rolling down her skin. She closed her eyes, letting the heat seep into her bones, but her mind refused to be soothed.


Instead, thoughts spiraled her empty bank account, the looming marriage her parents had arranged with a stranger named Liam, a man she’d never met, didn’t want to meet. The years of loneliness, of summers and winters spent alone while her parents chased careers and wealth.


“The world thinks money means no problems,” she muttered into the steam. “If only they knew.”


She shut off the water abruptly and grabbed her towel.


By the time she stepped out in her robe, the shrill beep of her alarm filled the room.


Sophia glared at the clock. “Seriously? I didn’t even set an alarm.”


She flopped onto the bed, groaning. “Everything is weird… my life is weird.”


Hours later, the day dissolved into evening.


By 7:18 p.m. 
She was curled on her couch, N*****x flickering. But when the film cut to an erotic scene, Sophia slammed the remote, shutting the TV off.


“No. No, no, no.” She pressed her hands over her face. “I am not about to think about him again. Never.”


Her gaze slid to the window, to the night beyond.


Maybe a walk.


“Fine,” she muttered, dragging on jeans and an oversized shirt. After brushing out her hair, she slipped into the city’s pulse.


Eight minutes later, the neon glow of a tavern caught her attention.


Her stomach tightened. The memory of the last time, her first drink, the stranger’s kiss, the chaos still burned.


“I should keep walking,” she whispered.


But her feet betrayed her. “One glass. Just one.”


Inside, the tavern reeked of stale beer and sweat. Drunken laughter and slurred songs tangled in the air. Sophia scanned for an empty table, choosing one tucked in the corner.


“Martini,” she told the waitress with a hesitant smile.
When the glass appeared, she curled her fingers around it, staring at the liquid.


“Not a bad idea,” she lied to herself, then sipped.
For a moment, watching the drunken old men sing off-key, she smiled. A flicker of warmth bloomed until dizziness crept in.


Her eyelids drooped. She clenched her jaw. “Get it together, Sophia. You’re not drunk.”


“Want more drink?”


The male voice startled her. She looked up to see a half-drunk man grinning sloppily.


“No,” she chuckled weakly, trying to be polite. “I’m just trying to get myself together.”


But he sat down anyway, setting his beer on her table. His hand found her arm, grip rough.


“One more won’t kill,” he slurred.


“I said no!” Her voice sharpened, pulling back.


“SHE SAID NO!”


The roar cut through the tavern like a blade. Silence crashed down.


Sophia turned, heart hammering.


And there he was.


The stranger from her dream, appearing again.


Standing a few feet away, fury carved into his expression, his gaze locked on the man who dared touch her.


Her breath caught. “Holy…”.


Her vision blurred, dizziness overtaking her. She tried to stand, pointing at him with trembling fingers.
“You!”


The room tilted. The world narrowed. She staggered, everything muffling into distant shouts and chaos. She took a step closer, her chest desperate to confirm, to see him.


But nausea surged. Her stomach twisted violently.


“Oh God, no!”


She pitched forward only to fall into strong arms.


“Hey. Open your eyes, miss. Let’s get out of here.”
His voice was real. Solid.


Sophia forced her eyes up. He was taller than she remembered, sharper, devastatingly handsome. The same face. The same man.


He’s real. He’s real.


“Who…” she muttered, and then the flood hit.


She puked. Violently.


Right on him.


Darkness swallowed her whole.


***


The scent of her own sheets greeted her when she woke.


“Ugh… my head…”


“You’re up!”


Sophia blinked blearily as Ava rushed to her, eyes wide with worry.


“What… happened?” Sophia mumbled.


Ava crossed her arms, scolding immediately. “Why would you go drinking alone? Why didn’t you call me?”


Sophia yawned, wincing. “Sorry, okay? But… how did you know? Did I call you?”


Her voice cracked with panic. “Wait, did I call Mom again?”


“No, silly!” Ava rolled her eyes and stormed into the kitchen, returning with tea and cookies.


Sophia sipped gratefully. The warmth soothed her stomach, but her mind spun.


“What about work? I overslept. What time is it?” She glanced at the clock. “Eleven?! God, I’m a disaster, mine is still fair, what about you Ava? Your work”.


“You’re fine. I called my boss. Couldn’t leave you alone,” Ava said gently. “But Soph… you don’t remember last night?”


Sophia frowned. “No. Just… clapping? People dancing?”


Ava smirked knowingly. “Then let me refresh you. You did something bad.”


Sophia stiffened. “What?”


“Well, I called you because I was bored. A man answered.”


“A man?!” Sophia shot upright.


“Yep. Told me to come to the tavern. And when I got there, you were on his back.”


The memory punched through Sophia’s haze. The fight. His arms. His voice. His eyes.


“I saw him,” she whispered. “I saw him again. The dream guy is real, i know it sounds crazy but he is that guy”.


“You think that guy is who you dream about every night?”.


“Ava yes!”.


Ava’s grin turned mischievous. “Well that’s weird, but If that is him then girl… he was hot. Respectful too. Even after you puked all over him.”


Sophia collapsed back, covering her face. “Kill me now. Ava, who am I?!”


“You,” Ava laughed, “is Sophia Hernandez, my best friend of ten years.”


“Wrong answer. I should be called the Queen of Disaster.”


Ava doubled over laughing, while Sophia groaned.


But deep inside, beneath the embarrassment, a truth throbbed like a secret heartbeat.


He was real.


And fate, it seemed, wasn’t finished with them yet.