Chapter 5

The days in Kingsbridge passed with a rhythm Sophia was beginning to cherish. Mornings were spent writing at the small desk by her cottage window, afternoons walking Max along the cliffs, and evenings often shared with Daniel. Yet, despite the growing closeness between them, an unspoken tension lingered, as if both were holding back pieces of themselves.

It was during one of these quiet evenings that Sophia decided to push past the surface. Daniel had invited her to the lighthouse for dinner—a simple meal of fresh seafood and crusty bread that they ate while watching the sun dip below the horizon.

“Daniel,” Sophia began hesitantly as they cleared the plates, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said, glancing at her with a small smile.

“You’ve told me so much about your wife and your life before Kingsbridge, but… why did you stop teaching? You’ve never really explained.”

Daniel’s smile faltered. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” Sophia said gently.

For a moment, he seemed to weigh his words, his gaze fixed on the flickering candle between them. Finally, he spoke.

“After Elizabeth passed, everything felt… hollow. Teaching, writing, even waking up in the morning—it all seemed pointless. I tried to push through, but I wasn’t the same. My students deserved better, and I wasn’t giving them that. So I left.”

Sophia reached across the table, her hand brushing his. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. “It was. But coming here helped. It gave me space to breathe, to think. And now, with you here…” He trailed off, shaking his head as if he’d said too much.

“What?” she pressed, her heart pounding.

“You remind me of something I thought I’d lost,” he said quietly. “Hope.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Sophia felt her chest tighten. She wanted to say something, to tell him how much he had come to mean to her, but the words caught in her throat.

Before she could respond, a knock at the door interrupted them. Daniel frowned, rising to answer it. When he opened the door, a man stood there, his face partially shadowed by the dim light.

“Daniel Ashford?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Daniel replied cautiously.

The man handed him a thick envelope. “You’ve been served.”

Daniel’s expression hardened as he took the envelope. The man nodded curtly and disappeared into the night.

Sophia stood, concern etched across her face. “What was that about?”

Daniel didn’t answer immediately. He closed the door and stared at the envelope in his hands, his knuckles white.

“Daniel?” she prompted softly.

“It’s nothing,” he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction. He set the envelope on the table and turned to her, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry that ruined the mood.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” she said, stepping closer. “But I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

Daniel nodded, his eyes softening. “Thank you, Sophia.”

---

The next morning, Sophia couldn’t shake the image of the envelope from her mind. There was a tension in Daniel now, a weight he carried that hadn’t been there before. She wanted to respect his privacy, but her curiosity—and her growing feelings for him—made it difficult.

As she walked into town to pick up groceries, she found herself stopping at Claire’s bakery. The shop was bustling, but Claire spotted her immediately, waving her over with a flour-dusted hand.

“Sophia! What brings you in today?”

“Just needed some bread,” Sophia said, forcing a smile.

Claire handed her a warm loaf, then leaned on the counter, her expression curious. “You seem distracted. Everything okay?”

Sophia hesitated, then decided to confide in her. “Daniel had a visitor last night. Someone served him legal papers, I think. He seemed… upset.”

Claire’s cheerful demeanor faltered, a shadow passing over her face. “I see.”

“Do you know anything about it?” Sophia asked carefully.

Claire glanced around, then lowered her voice. “I don’t know the details, but there’s been talk in town. Something about an inheritance dispute with his late wife’s family. It’s been years, but I guess they haven’t let it go.”

Sophia frowned. “Why would they fight him on that?”

Claire shrugged. “Greed, maybe. Or old grudges. But if Daniel’s anything, he’s resilient. He’ll get through it.”

Sophia thanked her and left the bakery, her mind racing. The idea of Daniel dealing with such a painful situation alone made her chest ache.

---

That evening, she went to the lighthouse again, determined to offer him support. When he answered the door, he looked surprised but not displeased.

“Sophia,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know,” she said. “But I wanted to check on you. Can I come in?”

He stepped aside, letting her in. The room was dimly lit, the envelope from the night before still sitting on the table, unopened.

“You haven’t looked at it?” she asked, nodding toward the envelope.

Daniel shook his head. “Not yet. I already know what it says.”

Sophia sat down, her expression gentle. “You don’t have to face this alone, you know.”

He sighed, sitting across from her. “It’s an inheritance issue. Elizabeth’s family contested her will after she passed, claiming she was too ill to make decisions when she named me as the sole beneficiary. It’s been dragging on for years, but I thought it was finally over.”

Sophia’s heart ached for him. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t care about the money,” Daniel said, his voice tinged with frustration. “But it’s not just about that. It’s about her memory. She was strong, even at the end, and they’re trying to erase that.”

Sophia reached for his hand, her fingers wrapping around his. “You’re doing right by her, Daniel. That’s all that matters.”

He looked at her, something shifting in his expression. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

She smiled, though her heart pounded in her chest. “I’m just here for you.”

Daniel hesitated, then leaned closer. “And I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The space between them seemed to vanish, and before she could think, his lips were on hers. The kiss was soft, tentative, but it carried an intensity that left her breathless.

When they finally pulled apart, Daniel rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Sophia whispered.

And in that moment, despite the storm of uncertainty surrounding them, it felt like they had found something solid, something worth holding on to.

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