LOGINIt wasn’t just that Sophia liked being around Daniel — it was that she needed to be.
She told herself it was because he was fun to watch — the way he talked, laughed, moved through life like everything came easy to him. He had this effortless charm, this magnetic energy that made everyone gravitate toward him. He could walk into a room full of strangers and leave with a group of new friends. That kind of confidence fascinated her in a way she couldn’t quite explain.
But deep down, she knew the truth: she just wanted to be near him.
Not for his jokes, not for his stories, not even for the way he made other people laugh.
Just… him.
The sound of his voice.
The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
The way he never seemed to notice how much she watched him.
So when he stayed over at their house during breaks from college, she made sure she was always nearby — quietly folding his laundry, refilling his coffee without being asked, or cleaning up after him without complaint.
It wasn’t that she was trying to impress him — okay, maybe she was.
But more than that, it was the simple fact that she liked doing things for him. It made her feel close to him, even if only in small ways. She’d catch herself walking past his room just to see if the door was open. She’d linger in the kitchen when he was making coffee, hoping he’d ask her something — anything — just so they could talk.
And every time he noticed her, even in the smallest way, her heart did that stupid little somersault.
“Soph, you don’t have to do that,” he’d say sometimes, catching her wiping crumbs off the table where he’d been eating.
She’d shrug, trying to look casual. “I’m already up.”
He’d smile, tousle her hair, and walk away.
And she’d stand there for a full minute afterward, heart pounding, replaying the touch like it meant something.
Because to her, it did.
To her, every brush of his fingers against her shoulder, every time he said her name, every glance he gave her — it all mattered.
Even if he didn’t know it.
Sometimes, Nathan would tease her about it.
“You’re like his little shadow,” he’d say, nudging her with his elbow. “You following him everywhere.”
She’d laugh it off. Smile. Roll her eyes.
But inside?
She didn’t want to be his shadow.
She wanted to be someone he looked at — really looked at.
Someone who existed in his world, not just on the edges of it.
Instead, every time she tried to impress him, he’d say things like, “Since when are you into math?” or “You’ve gotten smarter, Soph.”
Never, “You’ve gotten beautiful.”
Never, “I noticed how much you’ve changed.”
Just… “You’ve gotten smarter.”
Still, she kept showing up.
At breakfast, offering to make his favorite pancakes — even though she burned half of them and pretended it was “a learning process.”
At the library, pretending she needed help studying even when she didn’t — just so she could sit beside him and pretend she wasn’t memorizing every word he said.
At Nathan’s apartment, tidying up before he got there — making sure his favorite mug was clean, his jacket hung neatly by the door, and his favorite snacks were within reach.
Daniel never said anything about it.
Never thanked her.
Just smiled that easy smile of his and said, “You're too good to us, Soph.”
She hated that nickname.
Not because it was cute.
Because it reminded her that to him, she was still just Nathan’s little sister.
That phrase had followed her for years like a label she couldn’t peel off — the girl who tagged along, the one who didn’t belong in the same space as the rest of them.
And yet, she kept showing up anyway.
Even when he left again for school, she kept doing the same things — folding his hoodie, leaving snacks on the counter, cleaning his messes.
It was ridiculous, she knew.
She wasn’t his maid.
She wasn’t his servant.
She was just… Sophia.
Which was exactly the problem.
Her best friend Lena once caught her staring at a photo of Daniel on Nathan’s phone and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re never going to tell him, are you?”
Sophia had shaken her head slowly, her throat tight. “He doesn’t see me like that.”
Lena sighed, crossing her arms. “Then maybe you should stop acting like you’re waiting for him.”
But Sophia couldn’t explain it.
It wasn’t that she was waiting.
It was that she wanted to be seen.
And until that happened, she wasn’t ready to stop hoping.
She wasn’t ready to stop believing that maybe — just maybe — one day, he’d look at her the way he looked at other girls.
Not as a kid.
Not as Nathan’s sister.
But as someone worth noticing.
Worth remembering.
Worth wanting.
Until then, she’d keep showing up.
Keep making pancakes.
Keep pretending she didn’t care when he called her Soph like it was nothing.
Like she was nothing.
But it wasn’t nothing to her.
It was everything.
༺❀༻
One afternoon, while helping clean up after lunch, she found herself alone in the kitchen with him. He was drying dishes, and she was folding napkins, the silence between them soft and unfamiliar.
“You okay?” he asked, glancing over.
She blinked. “Yeah.”
“You’ve been quiet today.”
“I’m always quiet,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes.
He chuckled. “Not when you’re arguing with Nathan.”
She smiled a little, but it faded quickly.
She wanted to tell him. Just once, say the words out loud so he couldn’t miss them.
But what if he laughed?
What if he changed the way he treated her — or worse, stopped treating her like family altogether?
She couldn’t risk it.
So instead, she whispered, “I just… like listening to you talk.”
Daniel paused mid-wipe, meeting her eyes for a beat too long.
Then he smiled — soft, thoughtful.
“You know,” he said slowly, “you don’t always have to wait for people to notice you.”
Her breath caught.
Did he know?
Had he seen the way she looked at him?
Before she could ask, he added, “You should speak up more. You’ve got a good voice.”
And just like that, the moment passed.
Sophia swallowed hard, nodding as she turned away before he could see the tears forming behind her eyes.
Because yes.
Maybe she did have a voice.
But would he ever really listen?
Would he ever really hear her?
She wasn’t sure.
All she knew was that no matter how many times she told herself to move on, to forget about him, to stop waiting — she couldn’t.
Because loving Daniel Harper wasn’t something she chose.
It was something she lived with.
Quietly.
Deeply.
Hopelessly.
And no amount of logic or reason could change that.
Do you think Daniel is truly oblivious, or is he starting to notice in his own way? Drop your theories below 👇🌙
Hey, lovely readers! First — a huge, warm, heartfelt THANK YOU for diving into this story and living every laugh, tear, and heartbeat with me. You’re the reason these worlds exist, and I couldn’t do it without your love and support. Truly, you make all the words worth it! If you enjoyed this journey, I’ve got even more adventures waiting for you! Make sure you check out The Proxy Bride and I Was More Than Pretty — two stories packed with twists, heart, and those little moments that make you smile, gasp, and maybe even swoon. Here’s my promise to you: as long as you keep reading, commenting, and sharing your thoughts, every new book I release will be just as interesting, just as emotional, and just as impossible to put down. I mean it — fun, drama, love, suspense… all wrapped up in pages that are waiting for you. So keep your hearts ready, your tea hot, and your snacks nearby — the next story is coming, and I can’t wait for us to live it together.
Summer had returned, not with noise or spectacle, but with memory. The sun hung high over the park, pouring gold over the grass and tracing long shadows that stretched like gentle reminders of time. Cherry trees stood in full bloom once more, their soft pink petals trembling in the wind, drifting through the air like delicate whispers. Beneath them, life gathered — not in silence this time, but in laughter and light.A picnic blanket sprawled across the hillside, covered with baskets of sandwiches, bowls of fruit, mason jars of lemonade, and a towering cake that read: “Years of Love, Laughter, and Loud Friends.” It was as though the entire park breathed with joy. Around the blanket sat the people who had walked through one another’s storms and still arrived here — changed, rooted, whole.Lena sat beside her husband, Edward, their daughter asleep in a stroller nearby. Her linen dress fluttered softly in the wind, and when she laughed at something Edward whispered, her engagement ring ca
The park brimmed with life that afternoon, the kind that felt gentle and unhurried. Children’s laughter floated across the lawn, mingling with the hush of leaves that swayed in the soft breeze. The cherry blossoms were in bloom again, their petals drifting lazily through the air like snowflakes caught in sunlight. Nearby, the fountain whispered as water spilled into its basin, its steady rhythm blending with the easy sounds of joy around it.Under the old tree — the one with roots twisting deep into the earth and initials carved long ago into its bark — Daniel and Sophia sat on the worn wooden bench that had once been their secret place. Her head rested on his shoulder, his arm lay across the curve of her back, and her hand, once tender from carrying life, now carried the quiet grace of motherhood.Neither spoke. Words weren’t necessary anymore. The years between them had built a language of silence, one made of small gestures and steady warmth.After a while, Daniel’s voice drifted th
One year.That’s all it had been.One year since the oak grove had stood still beneath a sky glittering with stars.Since wildflowers lined the path where she walked toward him.Since he took her hand and whispered not just vows, but forever.And now—Now the world had softened into something deeper than love.Something lived.Something called home.The scent of cinnamon toast drifting through quiet mornings.Tiny fingers curling around a father’s thumb.The gentle hum of a lullaby in the dusk light.The quiet certainty that every shared heartbeat was a promise kept.The evening sun sank behind the hills, spilling gold through the nursery window. Dust motes floated like memories in the air. A mobile of silver stars turned lazily above the crib, catching the dying light.Sophia sat in the rocking chair, barefoot, hair loose, a soft cardigan draped over her shoulders. In her arms, swaddled in a sky-blue blanket, was Theodore — their son. A year old. His lashes long and dark against his c
The oak grove held its breath.Not a leaf stirred. Not even the wind dared to move — as if the earth itself knew that something sacred was unfolding.Sunlight spilled through the ancient canopy in slender ribbons of gold, bathing the path ahead in trembling light. Petals of white roses and lavender carpeted the ground, crushed softly beneath the first step of a woman who had waited not just years, but lifetimes, for this moment.And there she stood — Sophia.Her gown shimmered like moonlight spun into silk. The lace along her back fastened with tiny pearl buttons — each one a promise sealed in time. Her veil, edged with silver thread, caught the light as it drifted against her hair. In her hands, she carried a bouquet of wild roses and lavender, with a single sprig of cherry blossom — his favorite. He once told her, “It reminds me of you. Soft. Strong. Unforgettable.”She didn’t move. Not yet. Her breath caught somewhere between memory and hope. Because this — this was not just a weddi
Weeks passed like petals falling in spring.The twins — Kael and Lila — thrived.Their cries softened into coos.Their tiny hands learned to grip fingers.Their eyes, still wide with wonder, followed light, faces, the soft glow of the nursery mobile that spun above their cribs — a delicate carousel of stars and horses, handmade by Nathan’s mother.And in the quiet of the ranch house, life bloomed in new rhythms.Elena, back to her strength but still glowing with the softness of new motherhood, sat by the window each morning, nursing Lila while Kael slept in the crook of her arm. The sun painted golden stripes across the floor. The scent of lavender and baby powder hung in the air.And Nathan?He was trying.With all his heart.But fatherhood had turned him into a walking comedy of errors.One morning, he proudly announced he had “mastered the swaddle.”Five seconds later, Kael popped free like a burrito unrolling.He read the baby book aloud: “At this stage, infants respond to soothing







