What did you ever say to someone to make that kind of hurt better? She had never been great with emotions. She couldn’t even face her own father’s illness without feeling like she’d shatter. But with Ilias, she wanted to try.
So when he finally turned his sad eyes toward her, offering a small, fragile smile, and murmured, “A hug would be fine,” she wrapped her arms around him without hesitation. She pulled him close, letting him bury his nose in her damp hair, letting his arms wrap around her waist.
“Thanks, habiba,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before pulling back. “You don’t have to say anything. Just being here is enough. You’re the first person I’ve told the full truth.”
“Doesn’t Ale know?” she frowned, their fingers still intertwined.
“She knows the bits Amira told her. I never had the courage. I didn’t want people to judge me.”
“Ale would never.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But I did.”
Sofia nodded, understanding that ugly, familiar shame. She had carried it too, after Thomas, after Neptune, after her whole life collapsed. Blaming him was impossible, so she nudged the moment gently back to something lighter.
“I hope Drunk Sofia wasn’t too awful last night,” she said, forcing a small smile. “I tend to be whiny and a needy drunk. Or so I’ve been told.”
“She wasveryfun,” he said, smirking. “But I prefer Sober Sofia.”
“Why?”
He raked a hand through his curls. “Drunk Sofia is a little too forward. I like watching you hold back.”
Her brows shot up. “What did I do?”
He chuckled, low and warm. “More like, what didn’t you do?”
Porca troia.She hid her face in her hands.
“Nothing to worry about,” he added.
“Did I say something I should be ashamed of?”
He paused, eyes drifting over her with a quiet softness. “I hope not. I liked it.”
Sofia nodded, half-relieved. “Thanks,” she said, trying to change the subject—again. “How do you feel about the USL title? Think you can make the Final Five?”
His smirk stretched wider. “If I win the next few events? Maybe. It's a stretch, but not impossible.”
“Next up?”
“Margaret River.”
“Oh, right. After the photoshoot in Byron Bay.”
“Actually,” he said, grabbing his phone from his pocket, “Jamie emailed us. You too. We’re signed up for a conference in Sydney.”
“A conference? What kind?”
Somehow, she ended up leaning into him like muscle memory to check the email. His arm wrapped around her shoulders like it belonged there.
“Here.”
He held up his phone, an email open from TerraVive’s manager.
Since you havea couple of days between Byron Bay and flying to Margaret River, the board decided to sign Sofia and Ilias up for a conference at OceanXChange 2025 in Sydney. You’ll both speak about your ocean experience, athlete and scientist. Great for your credibility. Act in love.
Sofia growledwhen she scrolled the schedule. Thomas was on it.
