Sophia told herself she wouldn't think about Nathan Hale after leaving the prison.
She failed.
He lingered in her thoughts during her commute, during her coffee break, even while she stared at her laptop pretending to work. There was something about him—something unfinished, unresolved—like a sentence cut off before the final word.
When she returned to the prison a few days later, she came prepared. New questions. Sharper focus. Emotional distance.
At least, that was the plan.
Nathan was waiting again, calm as ever, hands cuffed, expression unreadable. But this time, when he looked up and saw her, his eyes lingered for half a second longer than usual.
"You came back," he said.
She raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."
"I wasn't sure if you would."
"Why not?"
"People usually stop coming when things stop being simple."
Sophia sat across from him. "Since when was this simple?"
He gave a low huff of a laugh. "Fair point."
Silence settled between them—not awkward, but heavy, charged. Sophia noticed the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the tiredness hidden behind his steady gaze. He looked… human today. Less like a mystery. More like a man.
She hated that she noticed.
---
Pushing the boundary
"I read more about Mark," she said carefully.
Nathan's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. "And?"
"He wasn't clean," she continued. "Money transfers, false names, offshore accounts. Someone was using him."
Nathan exhaled slowly. "That's what I told the police."
"And they didn't listen."
"They never do when they already have a convenient villain."
Her fingers tightened around her pen. "They still think that villain is you."
His eyes met hers, sharp but calm. "Do you?"
Sophia hesitated. Just for a second.
"No," she said quietly.
Something shifted in the room.
Trust—fragile and dangerous—hung between them like glass.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because guilty men don't look relieved when someone doubts their guilt," she replied. "And because you get angry about the right things."
He studied her face, as if trying to memorize something.
"You shouldn't say things like that," he murmured.
"Why?"
"Because they make me believe you."
The words sent an uninvited warmth through her chest.
---
Lightness sneaks in
Sophia leaned back and tried to shake the tension. "You know, for someone accused of murder, you're incredibly… well put together."
He frowned slightly. "Is that another strange compliment?"
"Yes. Accept it."
"I don't trust compliments."
"Then think of it as an observation. You sit like you still care about how you're seen. Most prisoners don't."
"Old habits," he said. "Hard to let go of who you used to be."
She tilted her head. "Who were you?"
For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.
"A normal man," he said finally. "With a job I liked. Friends I trusted. A future that made sense."
Her voice softened. "And now?"
"Now I have time," he said. "Too much of it."
She smiled gently. "You could use that time to practice smiling."
He gave her a cool look. "I smiled once. It didn't end well."
She laughed softly. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
---
A quiet, dangerous honesty
Sophia leaned forward again. "Nathan… is there something you're not telling me?"
"Yes."
Her heart skipped. "About the case?"
"About myself."
She swallowed. "Do you want to tell me?"
"No."
Honesty again. Clean. Sharp.
"But," he added, "when the time comes… you'll know."
"That's not comforting."
"I'm not a comforting person."
She smiled despite herself. "I noticed."
Their eyes held for a few seconds too long this time. The air felt different—thicker, warmer. Sophia became suddenly, painfully aware of how close she was to the edge of something she shouldn't step into.
"So," she said quickly, breaking the moment, "any hobbies in here? Chess? Poetry? Staring dramatically into nothingness?"
He smirked. A real one this time.
"I count the cracks in the wall," he replied. "There are eighty-seven. The fourth one from the left looks like a bird."
She blinked. "You're joking."
"I don't joke."
She laughed anyway. "I think prison is making you weird."
"No," he said softly. "You are."
Her cheeks warmed. "Excuse me?"
"You bring noise into a very quiet place."
The words shouldn't have sounded intimate.
But they did.
---
The line
The guard knocked on the door. Time was up.
Sophia stood reluctantly, closing her notebook. "I'll come back."
Nathan rose as well, chains clinking softly. "You shouldn't."
"I know."
"But you will."
"Yes."
Their gazes locked one last time.
"Sophia," he said, using her name for the first time.
She froze. "Yes?"
"Be careful," he added. "People who get too close to the truth often pay for it."
She smiled, calm but determined. "I've never been good at stepping back."
As she walked away, she felt it clearly now.
This wasn't just a story anymore.
And whatever lay between her and Nathan Hale—
it was dangerous, unspoken…
and already beginning to matter.
---