A Touch Withdrawn

Dinner had continued more smoothly than expected.

Adam, for once, appeared relaxed—at least on the surface. He'd arrived later than Sofia but made up for it with quiet attentiveness: brushing his hand along the small of her back as he greeted Raymond, pulling out her chair, then sitting beside her and slipping his fingers through hers beneath the table.

It wasn't for show. It felt deliberate and intimate. Sofia held onto that touch like it anchored her.

They laughed politely at Raymond's anecdotes, discussed minor business updates, and even shared bites from each other's plates—two people learning how to breathe in sync again. And when Adam leaned in to whisper something dry about the roast being an offense to meat everywhere, she couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips.

Peace. Unforced. Unfaked.