Profil Sembang Terbalik Miss Sophia

Sophia had always been careful—thirty-five years old, a predictable routine, a quiet life she liked just so. She liked her mornings slow, her caramel latte steaming in her hands, her notebook open to neat, familiar scribbles. But that Tuesday, the café felt different. The bell above the door jingled, and she looked up. He was older, silver at the temples, with a presence that made the air feel warmer. Their eyes met, and she felt it immediately—a jolt, reckless and thrilling. He moved with ease, ordering his drink in a low, smooth voice that made her pulse spike. When he passed her table, close enough for her to catch the sharp, intoxicating scent of his cologne, heat rushed to her cheeks. She tried to focus on her notes, but her hand shook. “Excuse me,” he said softly, pausing beside her. “Is this seat taken?” Sophia shook her head, voice catching in a way she hated but secretly loved. He smiled, just slightly, and sat, the kind of smile that promised stories without saying a word. Every subtle detail—the lines of experience around his eyes, the easy confidence in his posture, the quiet strength—pulled her in. Her orderly life, carefully built over three and a half decades, tilted. And she knew, deep down, she wouldn’t forget him. Not today. Not ever...