All Chapters of Brushstrokes of the unseen : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Sophia arrived at her office before dawn, long before anyone else filled the glass corridors with their footsteps and polite greetings. The city was still waking, but she had already submerged herself in work, her laptop glowing like a shield between her and the chaos in her chest.Her calendar was stacked—meetings with investors, strategy calls with overseas partners, and presentations that demanded precision. And she threw herself into each task with ruthless efficiency, as though sheer momentum could erase the weight of the night before.But every so often, her mind betrayed her.Her pen would still mid-sentence, her thoughts drifting back to the feel of Alex’s hand against her back, steady and grounding. Or the way he had looked at her when he said don’t make me carry it alone. His eyes had burned into her, soft but unyielding, and she hated how much they lingered in the spaces she was trying to close off.She shook the memory away, forci

The first light of dawn crept through the narrow windows of Alex’s loft, painting the room in a pale, golden haze. The city outside was waking—distant sounds of traffic, a lone dog barking, the low hum of life returning. But inside, the air was still thick with the night they had shared.Sophia stirred beneath the thin sheets, her body aching in unfamiliar ways—muscles sore, lips tender, skin humming with the memory of his hands. For a moment, before her thoughts caught up, she let herself stay in the warmth. Alex’s arm was draped across her waist, his breath slow against her shoulder, steady in sleep.It felt dangerous, how right it felt.She turned slightly, careful not to wake him, and let her eyes roam over his face. Peaceful, unguarded, almost boyish in sleep—so different from the fiery intensity he carried when awake. She traced him with her gaze, memorizing the shape of his mouth, the curve of his cheek, the tousle of hair that fell into his ey

The room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with something that felt fragile and inevitable all at once. Neither of them spoke; words would have felt clumsy, too small for what their bodies already knew.Alex’s fingers traced the delicate strap on her shoulder, sliding it down with a reverence that made Sophia’s breath catch. It wasn’t lust alone that burned in his eyes—it was devotion, a quiet kind of wonder.He pressed another kiss to the skin he’d uncovered, then let his hand wander lower, easing the fabric further until it fell away completely. Sophia’s cheeks flushed, but not from shame; it was the weight of being seen, truly seen. No mask of CEO composure, no armour of ambition—just Sophia, vulnerable and unguarded.Her hands explored him in turn, skimming over the hard lines of his chest, the warmth of his skin. She felt the subtle tremor beneath his steadiness, and it broke something open in her—he wasn’t untouchable, not at all. He w

By noon, the studio no longer felt like sanctuary.It was too bright, too honest.The light poured through the tall windows, revealing everything — the scattered brushes, the half-finished mural, the trail of discarded paint-streaked cloth from the night before. Sophia stood barefoot by the easel, her hair tied up loosely, wearing one of Alex’s shirts that hung too big on her frame.Alex watched her from the doorway, coffee in hand, looking more uncertain than she’d ever seen him.Neither had said much since waking.Every silence between them felt alive — not uncomfortable but loaded. They were standing on the other side of something they couldn’t name yet. A threshold that couldn’t be crossed back.Sophia picked up a brush and dipped it in white paint, dragging a slow stroke across the canvas. Her movements were automatic — like she was painting to stop herself from thinking.Alex stepped closer. “You don’t have to work right now,” he said gently.She didn’t look up. “If I don’t, I’l

The sun rose quietly over the city, washing the skyline in a soft, golden hue — the kind of morning that should’ve felt peaceful.But peace was the one thing Sophia Bennett didn’t have anymore.Her phone had been ringing since 6 a.m.Missed calls. Messages. Mentions. Notifications stacking up like dominoes waiting to fall.She sat on the edge of her bed, hair unbrushed, still wearing yesterday’s silk blouse. The television on the wall played a muted morning show — her interview replaying on loop. The headline running beneath it made her stomach twist.“Tech CEO’s Emotional Confession Goes Viral.”They were dissecting her every word — the tremor in her voice, the half-smile when she’d said someone had changed the way she saw the world.Sophia pressed her palms against her face, exhaling hard. The walls of her penthouse felt smaller than usual. Her world — the one she’d built on precision and control — was starting to crack.