The First Crack

Sophia’s POV

I should have made him leave.

That’s what I always did.

When people tried to reach me this time of year—when they called, when they knocked, when they cared—I shut them out.

Because no one could fix this.

No one could undo what had already been done.

And no one could bear this weight for me.

But Travis Cole was still sitting in my apartment.

Not talking.

Not pushing.

Just there.

And for some reason, I let him stay.

The room was too quiet.

The kind of silence that should have been comforting but wasn’t.

Travis sat across from me, his posture easy, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—they weren’t blank. They weren’t detached.

They were watching me.

Like he was waiting.

Like he was seeing something no one else had before.

It made my skin itch.

I shifted slightly, rubbing my hands against my arms.

"You’re wasting your time," I muttered.

He tilted his head. "Am I?"

I forced a humorless smile. "I’m not some damsel in distress, Cole. You don’t need to be here."

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. "I know."

My fingers curled into the fabric of my sweater. "Then why are you here?"

His eyes locked onto mine, steady and unflinching. "Because you don’t want to be alone. And for some reason, you’re letting me be the one who stays."

Something inside me twisted.

Because he was right.

I didn’t want to be alone.

I just didn’t want to admit it.

I pressed my lips together, looking away. "I don’t need—"

"You don’t need anyone. I know." His voice was calm, measured. "But that doesn’t mean you don’t want someone here."

I swallowed hard.

He wasn’t supposed to get this close.

He wasn’t supposed to understand.

And yet, he did.

And it was infuriating.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. I wasn’t sure anymore.

Travis never filled the silence with meaningless words, never tried to fix me like others had.

He just stayed.

The exhaustion in my body pulled heavier, my limbs aching from days of running on nothing but adrenaline and caffeine.

Travis watched as I blinked slower, my grip loosening around my own arms.

"You should sleep," he said quietly.

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "That’s not an option."

He didn’t argue. Didn’t tell me I was wrong.

Instead, he studied me for a long moment before nodding. "Alright."

And just like that, he let it go.

I didn’t know when it happened.

When I let my guard down.

When the exhaustion won.

But at some point, my body betrayed me.

My eyes closed, my breathing slowed, and I felt myself slipping under.

Not into the darkness I usually feared.

Not into the memories that haunted me.

But into something else entirely.

Something quieter.

Something safe.

And for the first time in years, I didn’t fight it.

I woke up hours later, curled on my couch, a blanket draped over me.

The apartment was still dimly lit, the soft glow from the city casting long shadows across the walls.

Travis was sitting in the armchair across from me, watching me with something unreadable in his expression.

"You stayed," I murmured, my voice rough from sleep.

His lips curved slightly. "I told you I wasn’t leaving."

I swallowed, my throat tight.

I had slept.

I had slept.

And I hadn’t woken up in a panic.

I hadn’t drowned in the nightmares I was expecting.

I had just… slept.

And the only thing different was him.

Travis stood, stretching slightly. "I should go."

I blinked, feeling something unfamiliar twist in my stomach.

I should let him go.

I should go back to pretending I didn’t need this.

But before I could stop myself, before I could even think—

"Stay."

The word was quiet. Almost too quiet.

But he heard it.

And for the first time, I saw something shift in his eyes.

Something dangerous.

Something that made my chest tighten.

He took a slow step forward, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

"Sophia."

I shook my head, gripping the blanket tighter. "I just—" I exhaled. "Just for tonight."

He hesitated.

Then he nodded once, his jaw tight.

"Okay."

And just like that, the walls I had spent years building cracked just a little more.

And I had no idea what that meant.