Chapter 2
Sophie had made the mistake of leaving him alone for three minutes.
Three.
Very.
Long.
Minutes.
When she returned from her bedroom—after aggressively whispering to herself in the mirror, "You are calm. You are normal. You are not living with a fictional man."—she immediately sensed danger.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Alexander?" she called carefully.
"I am… observing," came his voice from the hallway.
Observing?
Sophie hurried toward the sound and froze.
He was standing near the small shelf by the window, where she kept her "aesthetic" decorations—fairy lights, framed quotes, and a tall ceramic vase she bought because it made her feel like she had her life together.
Alexander was holding the vase.
Upside down.
Studying it like it was ancient treasure.
"Why is this shaped like this?" he asked thoughtfully. "Is it symbolic?"
"It's decorative," Sophie squeaked. "It's just decorative. Please hold it upright. Please—"
Too late.
His fingers shifted.
The vase slipped.
Time slowed.
Sophie gasped.
Alexander lunged.
The vase hit the floor with a sharp crack.
Silence.
They both stared at the shattered ceramic pieces scattered across the hardwood.
Sophie's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"That," she said faintly, "was forty-five dollars."
Alexander looked genuinely horrified. "I… did not intend to destroy your property."
She pressed her palms to her face. "It's fine. It's fine. It's just a vase. A completely unnecessary vase. I didn't even like it that much."
(It was a lie. She absolutely liked it.)
Alexander crouched down immediately. "I will repair it."
"You cannot repair it," Sophie said weakly. "It's shattered."
"I can attempt," he insisted, already picking up pieces with intense concentration, like he was solving a life-or-death mission.
Sophie watched him for a moment.
He looked so serious. So determined. So unfairly handsome while trying to glue ceramic fragments together with complete confusion about modern reality.
Her heart did an annoying little flip.
"You don't have to fix everything," she said softly.
He paused.
Looked up at her.
There was something different in his eyes now—not just confusion. Something steadier. Gentler.
"In my world," he said quietly, "when something breaks… it is usually my fault."
The teasing atmosphere shifted.
Sophie swallowed.
"Well," she said, kneeling beside him, "in this world, accidents happen. And you don't look like someone who breaks things on purpose."
Their hands brushed as they both reached for the same piece.
Electric.
Sophie froze.
Alexander did too.
The air felt warmer suddenly. Thicker.
He was close. Too close.
"You're staring again," he murmured.
"I am not," she lied immediately.
His lips curved slightly. "You are."
She scrambled to stand up. "Okay! New rule! You are not allowed to touch fragile objects."
"Define fragile."
"Everything."
He blinked.
Sophie grabbed a broom dramatically. "And you are absolutely not allowed to explore unsupervised."
"I am under supervision now?" he asked.
"Yes. Full-time supervision."
Alexander stood slowly, still looking around the apartment like it was a strange new universe.
"…This world is very delicate," he said thoughtfully.
Sophie huffed. "You have no idea."
But as she swept up the broken pieces, she couldn't stop the small smile creeping onto her face.
Because maybe…
Just maybe…
A broken vase wasn't the worst way for her new life to begin.