Careful,Mr. Lee

2 0 0
                                    

Sophia sat on the edge of her bed, the room alive with a golden glow from the lamp beside her. Her hands rested on her lap, the phone still warm from Rose’s call. For once, she didn’t feel like a prisoner. Instead, she felt alive, as if the walls of the house that had once confined her were merely silent witnesses to something greater brewing beneath the surface.

Rose’s voice echoed in her mind: “I’m coming for you. I’ll make sure you get your freedom.”

Freedom.

The word didn’t feel as heavy as it once had.

---

The Call of the Past

When Rose had called, Sophia hadn’t panicked. Instead, she had smiled, hearing the determination in her old friend’s voice.

“Rose,” Sophia had said, leaning back against the soft cushions of her bed. “You don’t have to come for me. I’m not trapped anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Rose had asked, her voice sharp with concern.

“I mean, I’m… different now,” Sophia said simply. “This place, these people…they’re not what you think.”

“Different how?” Rose had pressed.

Sophia had hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “It’s complicated. But trust me, I’m not the same scared girl who left Nigeria. If you come here, you might not recognize me anymore.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Rose had said, her voice unwavering. “And Alex will too. We promised we’d get you out.”

Sophia had chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re as stubborn as ever.”

“And you’re avoiding the point,” Rose had shot back. “What aren’t you telling me, Sophia?”

Before Sophia could answer, the soft knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She glanced toward it, her pulse quickening—not from fear, but from anticipation.

“I’ll call you back,” she had whispered, ending the call without waiting for Rose’s reply.

---

The knock came again, more insistent this time. Sophia rose from the bed, smoothing her skirt as she moved toward the door. When she opened it, Mr. Lee stood there, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding.

“Eavesdropping, as usual?” she asked with a small smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe.

His dark eyes flickered with amusement. “Eavesdropping would imply I care enough to listen. I only knock.”

She arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “And yet here you are. Should I be flattered?”

“Hardly.” His lips curved into a faint smile, but there was something sharper lurking beneath it. “You’ve been... quiet tonight. I don’t like it when you’re quiet.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of your games,” she shot back, stepping out into the hallway. The air between them felt charged, every word like a spark threatening to ignite something much bigger.

“Games?” he echoed, taking a slow step closer. His voice was low, smooth, and undeniably dangerous. “Is that what you think this is?”

Sophia met his gaze without flinching. “If it isn’t a game, then what is it? A hunt?”

His smile widened, but his eyes remained cold. “Perhaps.”

She rolled her eyes, brushing past him as she walked down the hall. “You’re predictable, you know that?”

SMITTEN BY HER (unedited) Where stories live. Discover now