Time had left its mark—fine lines at the edges of her eyes, a quiet resilience in her posture—but her gaze was unmistakable.

Direct. Steady. Unimpressed. Her hair was pulled back simply, her clothes practical and unadorned, as if she belonged to a life that didn’t require proof of worth.

“Alex?” she said, disbelief sharpening her tone. “Why are you here?”

Everything he had planned to say dissolved.

“I just…” His voice faltered. “I needed to see you.”

And in that moment, standing on a doorstep far removed from wealth and power, Alex felt poorer than he had ever been.

Sofia scrutinized him, her dark eyes filled with an indecipherable mixture of surprise, suspicion, and perhaps, barely perceptible, a hint of curiosity. After a few moments that seemed like hours, she stepped aside. “Come in,” she said, her voice emotionless. “Don’t just stand there.”

Alex entered, the tension palpable in the air, so thick he could almost touch it. The room was small, humble, but immaculate. A worn fabric sofa, a wooden coffee table, shelves full of books, and a few plants. The scent of coffee and a subtle air freshener filled the space, a homey aroma that enveloped him. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to take in the reality.

“Would you like something to drink?” Sofia offered, heading towards the kitchen. “I have water, or perhaps some tea.”

“Water, please,” he replied, his throat dry. As she moved with quiet efficiency, Alex couldn’t help but let his gaze wander around the room, absorbing every detail, every sign of the life Sofia had built without him. That’s when he saw him.

On a small side table, next to a reading lamp and a pot with a purple orchid, was a framed photograph.

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