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My heart feels too full, too heavy as if it's about to burst from the pure, raw emotion that wells up in me.
Sophie is braiding Lucy's hair, her fingers moving with a grace that mesmerizes me. On the screen, a princess fights for her kingdom, one of Lucy's favorite movies.
My eyes are riveted on the pair, the sight of them looking so much like a family, a sight I've always yearned for. A view that was taken away from me too soon.
Sophie... the mere thought of her causes a sharp pain in my chest. I let myself dream, just for a moment, of a world where she might see beyond the man I have to be - a single dad, a workaholic cop, a protector.
A world where she sees me for whom I want to be - a man longing to give his daughter the world, a man yearning for a woman he can cherish, a partner to share life's ups and downs.
But Sophie can't be that woman. Why would she choose such a burden? She deserves to be free, to be happy.
My gaze lingers on her, her infectious laughter filling the room. I shake my head, ridding myself of the wild thoughts swirling in my mind.
Inhaling a sharp breath, I knock on the living room door, announcing my presence.
Their heads whip around, their smiles instantly replaced with looks of alarm. Sophie's first reaction is to stretch her arms in front of Lucy, shielding her.
It's a protective instinct I'm all too familiar with, and it surprises me coming from Sophie. It's also something I can't help but admire.
Could she really be this perfect? And if she is, how am I, a simple man, supposed to resist her?
"I didn't mean to startle you," I apologize, stepping into the room. "I wanted to surprise you."
Lucy leaps off the couch, rushing into my arms.
"Dad, you're home before bedtime!"
As I place a hand on her head, she ducks, giggling.
"Careful, Dad! Sophie made my braids look really pretty."
The fond smile on my face grows wider as I glance at Sophie, gratitude welling up in me. It's then I realize the war I'm fighting against my feelings isn't over. It's only just begun.
"Thank you, Sophie. For everything." I say.
Her eyes meet mine, a soft smile gracing her lips. But she doesn't speak. She doesn't have to.
I recognize the silence that falls between us. It's a line drawn in the sand, marking the end of her duties for the day and the start of mine. It stings in a way I never expected, but I understand.
Sophie has her own life, her own world outside of this house, one she clearly intends to keep separate.
My reverie is shattered by the soft tug of Lucy's hand on my sleeve, her eyes filled with childish innocence.
"Dad, is something wrong?"
"No, princess," I reply, forcing a smile. "What's up?"
"We saved you three whole slices of pizza!" She grins widely, her eyes gleaming. Then, turning to Sophie, she lowers her voice to a stage whisper, revealing her secret.
"Sometimes, I pretend to be asleep and wait for Dad. I can hear him in the kitchen, cooking or making toast."
Heat floods my face, embarrassment creeping in. I can't help but wonder what Sophie must be thinking of me now. Laughter bubbles up inside me as I gently chide Lucy.
"It's bedtime, sweetheart."
"But it's not eleven yet!" She pouts, a play of emotions across her face.
"It isn't," I agree, "but Sophie and I need to have an adult conversation."
