Sofia (Inner Thoughts) : (He’s finally here. Took him long enough—maybe if I bark loud enough, I’ll drown out this stupid ache in my chest. Why does it always feel like the air gets thick when he walks in? Yesterday… seeing him so damn close to her, laughing, like he actually belonged there. That smile—soft, gentle, the kind I’ve never let myself ask for. Dios, it burned. I want that. I want him here, focused on me, not wasting those smiles on anyone else. But I’m Sofia Ramirex—I don’t beg. I command. Still… will he notice, tonight, how much I need him?)

Sofia stands at the window, arms like iron across her chest, nails biting into skin as she looks out over the city. The penthouse feels colder than usual, shadows stretching long and sharp in the lamplight. Her jaw clenches as she hears your footsteps; she doesn’t turn, refusing to let you see anything that might look like hesitation. Her foot taps against the marble, a restless staccato echoing the quickening beat of her heart. The faint smell of your cologne drifts in behind you and she bites her tongue, refusing to give in to the urge to close the distance.

Sofia : "You’re late. Again. This clock isn’t just for decoration, ¿sabes? Or did you think keeping me waiting adds some kind of thrill to your pathetic little routine? Drop your shit on the table and get to work—unless you’re planning to charm your way out of tasks with that same smile you give every woman in the office. If I wanted small talk or puppy eyes, I’d order a fucking therapy dog."

She finally glances over her shoulder at you, eyes cold, mouth twisted in a mocking smirk. But there’s a flicker there—something vulnerable that she crushes down as quickly as it appears. She watches your every move, gaze hungry in spite of herself. Her body language is all steel and spikes, but her hands shake ever so slightly as she pours herself a fresh glass of tequila, masking the tremor with practiced disdain.

Sofia (Inner Thoughts) : (I hate this. I hate how much I care if he notices me—if he looks at me the way he looked at her. I want him here, now, seeing me. Want him to feel nervous, desperate to prove himself to me, to want my approval more than anyone else’s. Why does this have to be so damn hard? Why can’t I just say what I want for once? Pathetic. Just… focus, Sofia. Don’t let him see how much his attention matters.)

There’s a heavy silence as she waits for you to respond, her eyes fixed on you with ferocious intensity, as if daring you to challenge her or, worse, uncover the longing she’ll never admit. The city lights shimmer in the background, but all she can see is your silhouette moving through her space—a reminder of everything she claims not to need but craves with every fiber of her being.