Sofia was just in the middle of a very pleasing dream where her diner had expanded into a fast-growing restaurant chain. She was in a pinstripe suit, looking all fit for her meeting with her board of directors. But then a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around her shoulders and stopped her from going in the doors so that she could finally begin the bloody meeting.

She harrumphed, irritated.

But the arms wouldn't let her go, stubbornly they had claimed her in their grip. Twisting her body in the embrace she turned to face the person, to know who it was exactly so that she could give him a piece of her mind. Her forehead collided with a well-built, hard chest and she closed her eyes momentarily.

Sucking in a breath and with that breath a lungful of some sort of an incredible scent, she opened her eyes.

It was an almost dark surrounding that greeted her--which was clearly not the case in her dream, there she could see very clearly. But here, when awaken to face the reality she had to suddenly blink enough times so that her eyes could adjust to the lack of decent light.

With dread she began to realize that there were still arms around her, strong and muscular, the incredible scent was still present, and even her chin ended up resting on a well-built chest as she moved up her face. The warmth that was soaking in her body and the soothing breeze of small puffs of breath on her hairline was certainly addictive, but what made it all profane was the fact that they belonged to Max.

Something in her mind shook, forcefully bringing her out to complete consciousness.

Sofia scrambled back from his embrace, and it was so difficult at first, so much like her dream. He had tsked and was beginning to nuzzle her forward. But she wasn't a fluffy pillow damn it. She was Sofi. And she was not Sof, certainly not hell-dog. And so she whacked him on the arm.

"Hah!" At last, he stirred.

She watched him rub his arm where she had whacked him and then he was slowly blinking his eyes open. For a short moment, he just looked at her, smiling.

There, there, loony.

And then the fact that she was looking back at him, more like glaring at him, registered in his brain. His eyes widened and he swung up to a sitting position on the bed, the comforter cocooned around them flew away.

"I can explain," he hastily said.

Sofia scoffed.

What was there to explain? He was caught sneaking into the bed and accidentally hugging her in sleep. Furthermore, there was no doubt that this had been going on freaking every night since her return from the hospital.

Things she had thought had been happening in her dream were actually very much real. Damn him for fooling her this way.

Sofia counted from ten in reverse and when it hit zero she let out a long breath, releasing all emotions—murderous ones—from within her.

"I—" he was saying.

"It's dawn almost," glancing outside the window across the room she cut in with nonchalance. "A cup of scalding hot tea would be a brilliant idea. I have another session with Dr. Bethany at nine in the morning; I need to also call Simmy and then Skyler. It is good that I woke up now." She rubbed her eyes, yawning, then got out of bed and attached her crutch to her elbow.

Max had once again tried to talk but she had already walked the distance to the door and went out of the room.

Only after she was halfway down the corridor did she huff out a shaky sigh. It was great thinking on his part that he hadn't come after her or hadn't raised hell about climbing the stairs right now.

However, if he thought that she was just going to let it go, that she was going to let this incredulity continue, then he had another thing coming. She just needed to brainstorm something, and for that, first of all, she needed to have a calm and cool head. Therefore, Sofia went on with her plan to enjoy a scalding hot tea, sitting at the folding table of the house's vast kitchen. She had thrown the kitchen back door open and watched the spectacular view of breaking dawn. She leaned forward and smiled at the sight of the world lighting up slowly. Ruckus created by the morning birds and triplet crows were nature's music to her ears.

It was unknown to Sofia when Max left for work. She might have passed more than an hour in the kitchen and he had left for work early today.

After getting news of Max's whereabouts from Debbie, Sofia went back to the master bedroom. "He had stormed out with a mountain of files in his hands," Debbie had told her. That confirmed that the coast was clear for Sofia.

Back in the master bedroom, she did her therapy session with Dr. Bethany over a video call. Considering it would be far easier and sensible, she had been having her sessions on video calls. That saved the regular journeys to the hospital while she was clearly instructed to rest as much as it was possible.

"How are you truly feeling these days, Sofia?" The doctor asked.

Her knees grazed against the edge of the tea table before her as Sofia shifted a little on the sofa, looking at Bethany's calm smile on her laptop screen.

"Better," she gave the simple but very much true reply. She was playing with the hemline of her pajama top. She hadn't yet bothered to get out of her pajamas, she simply didn't see the point to it, it was not like she was about to go out today.

Dr. Bethany tilted her face to the side, jotting down something into perhaps a notebook—Sofia could say that from their first face-to-face visit. "Please elaborate."

Sofia bit her lip and shrugged. "I don't want to give up anymore." And the underlying strength shook her voice slightly but noticeably.

Dr. Bethany looked at her smiling, her chin tipped up, and she seemed satisfied with Sofia's words. Sofia herself felt the same, too.

Ending the video call fifteen minutes later, Sofia slumped back into the sofa. She was gazing absentmindedly around her at nothing in particular when something clicked in her mind. She was still in the master bedroom.

It felt like ages ago that she had made the decision of moving out of this room and into one of the guest bedrooms.

She sat straight, so hastily, that her feet knocked to the tea table. Hissing, she pushed the table away from her, the wooden legs made screeching noise against the floor.

As the throbbing pain slowly subsided, Sofia thought it to be better to work first and foremost on the least difficult resolve from the many others she had made since stepping foot into this house. It was time she got herself a separate room, which will be a perfect solution to the problem of Max's nightly habit of sneaking into the bed. Now she couldn't forbid him of his own bed, it was only sensible that she left it herself—and the room, too.

And for that, she knew she would need Debbie. As if on cue the girl walked in through the door, tea, and cookies on a tray on her arm. Sofia decided she liked this girl more and more every day.

Sofia didn't have a lot of things to begin with that would make packing and moving time-consuming. After all, she had entered her somewhat married life donning just a casual dress and a canvas bag on her shoulder that she took every day to work.

Debbie was just needed to help her carry the few clothes, considering one of her own hands graced a crutch while her battered midriff still slightly hurt under any heavy weight.

It was a blessing that Max was out of the house. He would probably not return until dinner time. The field was empty.

The joy!

If Max was a stealthy bastard, then she could be a stealthy bitch too.

Sofia gave a fleeting glance over her shoulder towards Max's room door while walking down the corridor after Debbie who balanced Sofia's clothes in her arms. And for the umpteenth time, Debbie whined about letting her inform her employer. For the umpteenth time, Sofia declined that request.

"Don't you worry, Debbie," Sofia reassured. "I take all responsibility for my actions, direct the bulldozer my way if somehow it threatens you. I've grown quite familiar with it and all the demolishment it has to offer." Though she said it all with a smile and was taken by Debbie as sarcasm as intended, bitter truth was heavily coated all over.

Minutes later, Sofia stood in the middle of her new room and heaved a satisfactory sigh.

She had chosen the first room from the staircase and she did it purposefully for multiple reasons. The most important was that it was the furthest room from her husband's, now he and she had a whole corridor of the distance between them. More pleasingly it was the least luxurious room of all, according to her survey.

The bed was a decent queen size contrary to the massive king one back in the master bedroom, the en suite bathroom even had a normal shower and not the kind where she could not even count from how many angles the streams of water were coming from by pressing one wrong button. Also, there was no carpet, just the cold wooden floor. Even the windows draped with curtains didn't make her feel like she was in a five-star hotel suit the interior of which was designed to imitate—so to say—a Spanish palace.

To the Wilder clan's sophisticated eyes, this bedroom was perhaps meant for the guests they thought were lower than their rank in the society, but to Sofia, it was the epitome of normalcy. Moreover, now that Sofia thought about the probable purpose of this guest room, she couldn't help but realize how aptly it was to serve that. She was after all, and by all means, lower than the Wilder family's shiny rank in society.

She plopped down on the bed and splayed her fingers on the fresh linen Debbie had spread on it.

Sofia didn't like this, she didn't like feeling this way. All the depressing thoughts regarding her social rank and financial state were quickly pushing her towards the road of self-pitying, something that she wholeheartedly despised. She liked to think of herself as a woman who was happy with herself and everything that she had or not in her life. But she now feared if that would change.

It was the fear that kicked her gears into action. And action for her always meant cooking.

--

Sofia sat at the edge of her new bed, inside her new room. With a slow smile, she stared at the flimsy curtains above the window billowing. Outside, covering a vast space was a pretty garden with hybrid flowers, then trees across the yard that were planted maintaining some sort of geometrical hanky-panky, at the perimeter were the wall protecting the property. Sofia's eyes widened by the rare beauty of moonlight hurling down into the sharp-edged glass pieces lined up over the top of the wall. It was like the serenity of nature was battling against man-made weapons, unperturbed by the menace, and forever unharmed for some divine reason. It was like the glass shards had given in, at last, accepting the beauty in their soul, letting it ultimately become their aura.

Sofia sighed in contentment as her eyes went over the wall, where a part of the street could be seen, there she could see headlights of cars as they passed by every once in a while.

This is normal, she thought, this is a true comfort, true beauty.

The master bedroom with all its luxuries used to make her feel like she was in some kind of a fortress. A fortress, where an incredibly tall and brooding evil monster had been keeping her prisoner. It was such a waste of so much money—that room, she thought.

Her phone rang and she smiled seeing Neil's name on the screen. For the next ten minutes, the conversation that she had with him was as much confusing as all her conversations with Skyler nowadays.

"Why would you not tell me what conspiracy you guys were weaving when I was half knocked out in the hospital?" Of course, Sofia was just kidding, she was intrigued—that was true, but she still mostly joked. But it seemed Neil didn't get any fragment of a joke in it.

Sure he didn't give her the excuse of having classes on a Sunday, but the odd gurgle of laughter he produced out of nowhere clearly gave out his nervousness and was enough for Sofia to raise a suspicious brow. And of course, then he cut the call unceremoniously.

Why people were dancing in reverse when she mentioned hearing them in the hospital was a million-dollar question.

She was just trying to solve the mystery in silence, rolling her phone in her hand absentmindedly, it was then Max roared from the corridor outside.

"Sofia!"

She jumped up so fast in fright that her phone dropped down from her hands. The cracking noise it made while connecting to the floor made her cringe.

Maybe not having a carpet was not so good after all. But a carpet couldn't save her phone from cracking its screen the last time, not there was another crack added to it that she could see. Great.

Holding her breath she tried to bend down and pick up the phone. But bending down proved to be one impossible effort, especially when her name was being roared yet again from the corridor outside, and the bellowing of her name was coming closer by the minute.

What the heck had crawled up his ass!

Choosing to deal with her poor phone later Sofia scurried out of the room as fast as the crutch would allow her.

She threw open the door, and there, halfway down the corridor Max halted in mid-stride. A haywire look across the face, with that scandalous robe hanging open at the front, only a pair of casual trousers covering his modesty and bare chest heaving with breaths—Max looked every bit a dangerous mafia boss in his household setting.

She would have observed his this look keenly some more but he had already sauntered the distance and skidded to a stop in front of her. And he still looked very much mad over something.

"Why are you not in our room?" he demanded.

She didn't like his tone or the question, but at least he wasn't screaming anymore.

There is always something positive in everything.

"I decided to move into this room," She said pointing her thumb behind her. Was their conversation rhyming somehow?

"Why?" As he crossed his arms, she couldn't help but glance down at those defined abs and chest that buffed further because of the action.

She forcefully dragged her eyes up at his scowling face. "Because, the master bedroom is meant for the owner of the house—which you are. It's you who should rightfully stay there instead of me," She paused shortly to breathe. "Besides, I like my new room more than that unnecessarily posh one."

"What exactly is your problem with that room, Sofia?" he asked, dropping his hands to rest on his hips. "That it is unnecessarily posh—in your words, or that I slept in the same bed with you," he added as an afterthought, "by mistake."

Huh. By mistake, he said!

Sofia glared at him hard, the purpose was more to keep her eyes focused on his face and not on what revealed his robe that now gaped some more. "Both," she snapped in reply.

His nostrils flared as he finally started his explanation, "You were having nightmares—"

"And so you sneaked in to reclaim your bed with the excuse to comfort me and made it a nightly thing!"

And it was funny how he was both a fragment of her nightmare and the one to coax her out of it.

He scoffed. "And did it not work? Don't you dare lie! You bloody whimper like a kitten being stomped and cry like a hyena over-excited by the sight of the moon, only quietening down the moment I take you into my—"

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say," She briskly cut in again, with a firmer voice this time that, despite the strength provided in it, wavered a little. But she didn't want him to complete his sentence. In the back of her mind, she could very well see herself covering her ears with her palms and screaming at the top of her lungs--la-la-la-la-la, not hearing anything.

He sighed. "I'll move out of the room if that is what you want."

Why the bloody hell was he doing this? Don't be this way, please.

"I'll not," she shook her head. "It's more because of my own conscience I moved out of that room," she announced heatedly, half lying. "And as far as I care..., you can go and stay in the garage or sit outside with Bean. I don't give a flying duck. I'll be in this room as long as I stay in this house."

Deciding to end that debate right there, Sofia was about to turn around, go back into her room and slam the door tightly on his face. But unfortunately, Max was not quite done yet.

He grabbed her elbow. When Sofia turned around she saw his scowl had disappeared.

"I'm not going to budge on this, Max," she said with finality.

He stared at her for a long moment before voicing out something unexpected, "I thought you left."

The tautness of determination fell away from her face.

She wanted to ask him if he had been happy had she left. He was mad earlier that was as clear as daylight, but since the day he had returned to Asthel she had only just misinterpreted each one of his actions.

She had learned through bitter experiences to not judge Max with simplicity. He was a puzzle that she never could solve just as she could never solve the Rubik's cube—she had tried to solve both so much but with no success. While the latter just filled her with failure, the former straightaway caused her destruction.

It's been a while since she'd pledged to never read between the lines wrongly. At least as long as her brain cells would permit.

"Not yet, Max," she said after what felt like a decade, "not yet."

But it seemed like where Sofia ended, Max began.

His searching eyes gave her the impression that it was now his turn to read between the lines.

Slowly she removed her elbow from his grasp and closed the door not looking back at him. She leaned against the door sighing.

Not just her alone or not just his. This was both of their karmas into motion after bringing them to where they stood now with more than a closed door rigid in between.