Page 4 of Shadows of Recovery

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice gentle. “How are you feeling?”

Sophie hesitated before answering, her hand still on the doorknob, “Better, I think. Just...confused.”

Tristan nodded, setting aside the papers he had been reviewing. “That’s completely understandable.”

She stepped farther into the room, taking a seat in the chair opposite his desk. “I don’t remember much after dancing at the bar. Just bits and pieces.”

Tristan leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the desk, his brow furrowed with concern. "Did you call your friend Jenna?"

Sophie blinked and gave him a sheepish grin, brushing a lock of her red hair behind her ear. "Uh, no... my phone's dead, actually.”

Tristan chuckled softly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "You can use mine if you need it."

Sophie’s face flushed with embarrassment as she waved the phone away. "I, um, don't really remember her number off the top of my head." She winced slightly. "I’m one of those who relies on contacts for everything.”

He smiled at her predicament, the tension of the situation softening. "No worries. I get it. New generation, right?"

She nodded, still feeling a little foolish. Then her eyes wandered to shirt and shorts she was wearing. "By the way, about the dress... don’t worry. I don’t care. It’s just a dress."

Tristan’s smile turned apologetic, his eyes twinkling with humor. "Yeah, I, uh, never washed sequins before. I’ll make it up to you, I promise."

Sophie laughed, the sound light and warm. "You saved my life. I think that more than makes up for it."

The room grew quiet for a moment, both of them absorbing everything that had happened that night. Her voice growing steadier, she spoke up again, "You really saved me. I’m Sophie, by the way."

Tristan met her gaze, his expression shifting to something more protective. "I’m just glad you’re okay, Sophie. That’s all that matters."

As she sat there, feeling an unexpected warmth and safety in his presence, Sophie realized that maybe this night had changed something fundamental for her. She didn’t know what it was yet, but she knew one thing—she was in good hands.

Two

Tristan gave Sophie a reassuring smile as he stood up from his desk. “C’mon into the kitchen. Let’s try to get a light breakfast into you.”

Sophie hesitated for a moment, still feeling a bit off-balance, but the warmth in Tristan’s voice gave her the nudge she needed. She followed him out of the office, the soft hum of the house around them somehow comforting.

As they walked through the hallway, Sophie’s gaze wandered, taking in more of the home’s details—family photos, cozy furnishings, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. It all added to the sense of calm slowly starting to settle over her.

They entered the kitchen, a bright and inviting space with sunlight streaming in through the windows. The countertops were clutter-free, and the smell of fresh coffee was more pronounced here. Tristan moved with an easy familiarity, opening cabinets and pulling out what he needed.

“Sit down.” He gestured to the small kitchen table. “I’ll whip up something light. Toast, maybe? Or some fruit?”

Sophie nodded as she took a seat, feeling a little more like herself with each passing minute. “Toast sounds good,” she replied, her voice still a bit shaky but steadying.

Tristan busied himself at the counter, toasting bread and slicing up some fruit. The normalcy of it all—the simple act of preparing breakfast helped ground Sophie. She watched him move around the kitchen, his presence soothing.

In a few minutes, Tristan set a plate in front of her with a couple slices of toast, a small dish of butter, and a bowl of mixed fruit. “Here you go.” He took a seat across from her with his own cup of coffee. “Eat what you can. No pressure.”

Sophie picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite, the familiar taste helping to settle her nerves even more. “Thank you, Tristan. For everything.”

Tristan smiled, a warm and genuine expression that reached his eyes. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

As they sat there, sharing a simple breakfast in the quiet morning light, a sense of peace began to replace the fear and confusion that had gripped her. She didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, she knew she wasn’t alone. And for now, that was enough.

As Sophie nibbled on her toast, Tristan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. He seemed to be weighing his words carefully before he finally spoke.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened last night,” he began, his tone serious but still gentle. “The drug that was slipped into your drink—it likely wasn’t something typical. Based on how quickly it affected you and how violently you reacted later, I think it was a homemade concoction.”

Sophie looked up, her brows furrowing in concern. “Homemade?”

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