All Chapters of Brushstrokes of the unseen : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The morning after their secret night together, Sophia woke with an unusual heaviness in her chest. Not regret—she had banished that word after giving herself to him—but something quieter, subtler, like a shadow stretching across a sunlit room.The house felt different. She noticed it first in the way the corridors echoed more sharply, the way the silence was too measured, too careful. People still moved about—assistants carrying files, staff setting trays for breakfast—but their voices were pitched low, their laughter stifled, their footsteps softer, as though unwilling to draw attention.Sophia had lived in power long enough to recognize this change. Whispers had begun.When she entered the dining hall, the faint scrape of cutlery and murmured conversations immediately dimmed. A young intern flushed crimson and looked down at her plate. One of the secretaries—usually effusive with chatter about her children—kept her gaze fixed on her toast, as if eye

The night had settled over the town in a velvet hush, stars scattered like careless diamonds above the quiet streets. Inside her room, the dim glow of a single lamp softened the edges of reality, making everything feel dreamlike, suspended between truth and illusion. She sat on the edge of her bed, knees drawn close to her chest, her mind caught in the storm of what had happened between them. Every memory of his touch lingered like fire pressed into her skin, every glance replayed until it burned her. It wasn’t just longing anymore—it was something deeper, heavier, pulling her in directions she wasn’t ready to face. She told herself a thousand times that it had been a mistake, that letting herself cross that line with him would only lead to heartbreak. And yet… the thought of never feeling his warmth again hollowed her out in a way she couldn’t bear. The soft knock on her door startled her. It was quiet, hesitant, but she knew instantly who it was. Her breath caught, the air thick

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful. The stillness after what had happened felt like a scream she couldn’t silence. Every tick of the clock on the wall made her flinch, as though it was reminding her of how long she had been sitting here, frozen, unable to process. Sophia’s knees were drawn tight against her chest, arms wrapped around them as if she could hold herself together. The sheets were tangled beneath her, carrying the faintest trace of his cologne, the warmth of his presence lingering in the air. It should have been comforting. Instead, it was unbearable. Her lips still tingled, betraying her. She could feel the ghost of his mouth there, the heat of his breath, the rough and gentle clash of need between them. The memory was sharp, immediate—his hand sliding against hers in hesitation before gripping with certainty, the moment where restraint snapped and neither of them cared about right or wrong. She buried

The city was already alive by the time Sophia slipped out of Alex’s apartment. The streets hummed with early morning chatter, coffee carts clattering, taxis blaring their horns in impatience. Yet she moved through it all as if she were invisible, her mind buzzing with a noise louder than the city itself.Her heels clicked sharply against the pavement, but even that steady rhythm couldn’t ground her. She had told him she didn’t regret it—she meant it—but the truth was far messier. She was terrified, and that fear sat in her chest like a stone she couldn’t swallow.Back in her penthouse, the silence pressed in differently than it had at his place. Here, everything was sharp edges and pristine order, no trace of vulnerability. She shrugged off her coat, dropped her bag on the marble counter, and stared at her reflection in the tall mirror by the door.Her hair was still tousled, her skin faintly flushed. She looked like someone she didn’t recognize—a wom

The next morning, Sophia woke with the weight of last night still pressing on her chest. Her phone was on the nightstand, its screen dark and silent now, but she couldn’t shake the memory of the words glowing against it.I’d want that too.It looped in her head, pulling her in two directions—terror and desire, fear and relief. She had given him a piece of her truth, and instead of recoiling, he had met her there. That single admission changed everything.Her morning routine blurred. Coffee went cold on her desk, unread emails piled up, meetings passed like background noise. All she could feel was the echo of him, the possibility of what they had almost said but not done.By the afternoon, her phone buzzed again. His name on the screen froze her in place. She stared at it, willing herself not to answer, yet unable to let it go.Finally, she swiped.“Hello,” she said, her voice careful.“Hi.” His tone was low, hesitan