Chapter 3

Sophia’s P.O.V

Sleep clung to me like a heavy fog, my limbs sluggish, my mind teetering between exhaustion and determination as I pushed through the daycare doors. The morning buzzed around me—children giggling, mothers chatting in hushed voices, the faint scent of baby powder and fresh coffee lingering in the air.

I barely managed a tired smile as I handed my girls over, mumbling something about picking them up on time before backing away.

The daycare nanny gave me a knowing smile, probably thinking the exhaustion came from having two lively children in the house. I didn’t dare correct her, so I simply nodded and headed outside, but not before kissing my baby girls goodbye for now.

But as soon as I set foot outside the building, the world swayed around me. My vision blurred, dark spots flickering at the edges of my sight. I knew I hadn’t slept enough last night, but I hadn’t expected my body to betray me like this. My knees buckled. A sharp gasp escaped me as the ground came rushing up—only for it to stop short.

Strong hands caught me, firm yet careful, steadying me before I could crumple. A sharp inhale filled my lungs with the scent of something rich, something warm—sandalwood, maybe, or the crisp bite of fresh air after the rain.

Blinking up, I found myself staring into a pair of striking blue eyes, a faint scar curved under his jaw which made him look all the more mysterious and rough but with a bad boy exterior which was framed by dark, tousled hair. The concern etched across his face sent a strange shiver through me, though I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or something else entirely.

Who was this man? Why had I never seen him before?

"Are you okay?" His voice was deep, smooth, laced with genuine worry.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. My mind stalled as I took in the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his brows knitted together ever so slightly, the heat of his hands still lingering on my arms. He was breathtakingly beautiful. And for a split second, I felt like I was in one of those ridiculous romance novels I always scoffed at.

Then a small voice cut through my daze.

"Daddy?"

Reality snapped back into place, swift and unforgiving. My stomach twisted, and I instinctively stepped out of his hold, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the lingering warmth where his hands had been, the curious gaze of a little boy standing a few feet away, and the undeniable realization that this man wasn’t just some impossibly handsome stranger.

He was a father. A married man, most likely.

I cleared my throat, forcing a weak smile. "I- eh, I-didn’t s-sleep well… thanks. Thank you for catching me."

God! Why did I just have to make a fool of myself!

His eyes lingered on mine a moment too long, like he was trying to decide if he bought my story. Then, with a small nod, he took a step back. "You should sit down. Do you need some water?"

I shook my head, unwilling to linger any longer. "I'll be fine. Really."

The little boy tugged at his pant leg, and he finally turned away, ruffling the kid’s hair as they walked into the daycare together. I exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to my temple as I tried to shake the strange tightness in my chest.

Whatever that moment was—whatever foolishness had flickered through me—it didn’t matter. He wasn’t mine to be momentarily awestruck by. And I had a class to teach.

I turned on my heel, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag as I tried to walk away, but I hadn’t even taken two steps before his husky, yet melodic voice called out for me. My breath hitched, and I refused to look at him, focusing instead on the polished tiles beneath our feet.

"Miss," his voice was quiet, edged with something I couldn’t quite place—concern, maybe, or something deeper. "Are you really okay?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a smile as I turned to face him. His eyes, so sharp and unyielding, studied me like he was searching for cracks in the facade I had so carefully put up.

"I’m fine," I lied smoothly, providing my best fake smile. "I have to get to class."

He didn't look convinced, but gave me a small nod before he turned away once again. I finally breathed a sigh of relief as I turned towards my car and headed to my art class.

Art has always been my escape, my hoppy, my passion…my identity. And once again, I planned to immerse myself in my class and forget about last night’s betrayal, even if for a little while.

But the moment I entered my class, with my best smile on my face as my students greeted me with enthusiasm. Paint cans clattered as someone dropped a brush as my stomach twisted into knots. Just then, a whiff of Jasmine perfume stopped me cold.

I knew this scent…why did it feel so familiar? Where had I scented it before?

But I didn’t need to wait long for answers.

Sitting at the front of the room, her legs crossed elegantly, was the same woman from last night. The same woman my husband had brought home.

She turned her head slowly, as if she had been expecting me, a smirk curling on her lips, her eyes gleaming with something smug, something victorious. My breath caught in my throat as I stood frozen in the doorway. My nails bit into my palms, a scream clawing its way up my throat.

"Well, this is a surprise," she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement.

I clenched my jaw, forcing my feet to move, walking past her like she was nothing more than another face in the crowd, but I could feel her watching me, dissecting me, as if she knew something I didn’t. I didn’t know what game she was playing, but one thing was obvious—she wanted me to know she had the upper hand.