Romeo's heart started beating very fast, like a small, frantic drum trapped inside his chest. The sound was so loud in his ears that he was absolutely sure Sophia could hear it too. It was the kind of feeling that makes you hold your breath without even knowing it, waiting for something big to happen.
Sophia felt it too. She stood very still, her feet glued to the kitchen floor. It was like a strange pull was tugging at her, a magnetic feeling she could not explain with words. Her hand was still resting on his chest, right over his heart, feeling the steady thumping. She only noticed it when her fingers felt a tiny, sharp spark. It was a little bit of static electricity, like the surprising shock you get from a metal door handle on a very cold day. She pulled her hand back quickly, as if she had accidentally touched a hot stove.
She looked startled. Her eyes were wide, and she looked like she had just woken up from a very deep, confusing dream. The warmth of the moment was still there, hanging in the air like steam.
"I am sorry," Romeo said. His voice was much lower than usual. It sounded scratchy and quiet, like he had forgotten how to speak. He did not know why he was whispering. There was nobody else in the small room to hear them, but it felt like the silence was something precious that he should not break too loudly.
"Me too," Sophia replied. She spoke very fast, the words tripping over each other as she tried to fill the space. She wanted to cover up the silence before it got too heavy to carry. "I did not mean to... I just... the stove," she stuttered, pointing at the blue flame.
They both stepped back at the exact same time. It was a little bit awkward, like a dance where both people forgot the steps. They were trying so hard to move away that they almost tripped over their own feet in the tiny kitchen. Romeo bumped his leg into a wooden chair, and Sophia nearly slipped on the edge of the rug.
Sophia turned back toward the stove quickly. She grabbed a wooden spoon and started to move it around in the empty pan. She pretended to be very busy with the eggs, even though she hadn't even dropped them in yet. Romeo looked down at the counter. He acted like he was very interested in a tiny, crooked crack in the tile. He traced the line of the crack with his eyes as if it were a map. Neither of them spoke for a long minute. The only sound in the kitchen was the steady tick-tock of a clock and the soft, humming sound of the old refrigerator.
Sophia finally cleared her throat. The sound was very loud in the quiet room. "I should do this," she said, nodding at the cooking. She pointed at the stove with her spoon. Her voice was steady now, but if you looked closely at her sleeves, you could see her hands were still shaking a little bit.
Romeo nodded his head quickly, feeling a bit silly. "Yeah. Of course. You are the boss in the kitchen. I am just the helper. I'll just stay out of the way."
"You are not a very good helper yet," she joked. She didn't look back at him, but her voice was playful. "You almost turned the eggs into black charcoal before they even started."
"I was trying my best," Romeo said. He took a few more steps away to give her some space to move. He leaned his back against the brick wall. But even though he moved away, the feeling stayed with him. He could still feel the warmth on his chest from where she had been standing just a few seconds ago.
He felt a lot of confusion in his head. There was a quiet question hanging in the air that neither of them wanted to ask out loud. They both knew that something had changed between them in those few seconds. But neither of them knew what to do next.
"You almost burned the whole kitchen down," she said again. She was trying to talk normally, acting like everything was the same as it was ten minutes ago.
"But you laughed," he reminded her. He gave her a small, shy smile. "I saw you. You thought it was funny. You weren't even worried."
She paused for a second. She stopped stirring the eggs and looked at the wall. "Yes. I did. I really did laugh. It has been a long time since I felt like laughing. I almost forgot how to do it."
Sophia moved around the kitchen more easily now. She was a natural at this. She cracked the rest of the eggs perfectly, using only one hand for each egg—just like the professional chefs Romeo had seen. The shells broke in neat, straight lines. She added a little bit of salt and a tiny pinch of pepper. She stirred the pan calmly, making sure the heat was just right. Romeo stood near the counter and watched her. He liked the way she moved. She didn't waste any time; she was confident and sure.
"You can sit down," she said, sensing his gaze. "You don't have to stand there like a statue watching me."
"I am fine right here," he said. He didn't want to move. He liked watching her.
She smiled again. It was a smaller, softer smile this time. It was not a big laugh, but it was very kind. As she cooked, Romeo started to think. He watched her hands. They were strong from playing the violin, yet very gentle. He thought about how she seemed to belong in this small, messy space. She had a way of making the little loft feel like a real home, even though they were just hiding out.
Then, the fear came back to him. It hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water. He told himself he had to be very, very careful. He could not let his guard down, not even for a minute of happiness. If he acted too perfect or too much like a rich kid, she might start asking the wrong questions. Sophia was very smart. She noticed things that other people missed.
She might ask who he really was. She might ask where he learned to speak so well, or why he had such expensive-looking shoes. Those were questions he could not answer without losing her.
He could not tell her the truth—that his name was Romeo Kane, and his father was the most powerful man in the city. He forced his shoulders to drop and relax. He tried to look like a normal, unsure boy again. He tried to hide the part of him that knew how to lead, how to give orders, and how to hide in plain sight.
Sophia placed the food on two small, chipped plates. The eggs were fluffy, yellow, and smelled delicious. She handed one plate to him. "Eat," she commanded. "You need your strength for the walk downtown."
He took a big bite. The food was warm and salty. "This is actually really good," he said. He was surprised by how hungry he actually was. The stress of the morning had hidden his hunger.
She smiled proudly and sat down across from him. "Of course it is. I made it. My grandmother taught me the secret to perfect eggs. She said you have to be patient with them. You can't rush a good thing."
They sat near the window and ate their breakfast quietly. The strange moment from the kitchen was still there between them. It was like an invisible guest sitting at the table, watching them eat. They did not talk about the heartbeat or the spark of electricity, but the feeling was alive. It made the air feel thick and important.
After they finished every last bit of food, Sophia stood up. She picked up her black violin case from the corner. It was old and the edges were worn down, but she wiped a bit of dust off the top with her sleeve. She held it close to her body, hugging it almost like a shield.
"We should go," she said. Her voice was firm now. She was putting her "brave face" back on. She was thinking about the day ahead.
Romeo nodded. "Yes. We don't want to be late. Jax said the man at the theater doesn't like to wait for anyone."
They put on their heavy coats and stepped outside into the hallway. It was a little bit before noon. The air outside the apartment building was very, very cold. It poked at their cheeks like tiny needles and made their noses turn bright red. But at least it was dry now. The sun was trying very hard to shine through the gaps between the giant, tall buildings. It created long, golden stripes of light on the gray, cold pavement.
People rushed past them in every direction. The sidewalk was like a fast-moving river of people. They had steaming coffee cups in their hands to stay warm. They had phones pressed to their ears, talking loudly about meetings, schedules, and money. They were all in a very big hurry to get somewhere important.
New York City is a place that has no patience for pain. The city keeps moving, no matter who is sad or who is hurting inside. The yellow taxis honked their loud horns, and the big blue buses hissed as they stopped at the corners.
Romeo walked right beside Sophia. He stayed very close so they would not get separated in the thick crowd. He kept his hands deep in his jacket pockets to stay warm. Sophia carried her violin case very carefully. She held it tight with both hands, as if it was the only solid thing she had left in the entire world.
They were heading toward the place Jax had mentioned—the old theater with the red door. Jax said there was a small opportunity there. It was a chance for Sophia to play her music for someone who could help. It was a chance to maybe earn some real money so they could buy more than just a carton of eggs.
Neither of them spoke much as they walked. The morning had already used up all their words. They just walked together, shoulder to shoulder. Romeo kept looking around, checking the faces of the people walking toward them. He was always looking for a black suit or a security guard who might recognize him from the mansion.
As they turned a corner onto a wider street, a delicious smell reached them. It was the smell of fresh coffee beans and toasted bread. It made Romeo's mouth water. A small café stood right there on the corner. It was tiny, squeezed between two giant office buildings made of glass and steel.
The windows of the café were foggy and white because it was so warm inside compared to the freezing air outside. You could see the steam rising from the espresso machine. Through the glass, Romeo could see people sitting at small round tables. They were talking quietly and laughing. They were the lucky ones. They were inside, escaping the biting cold wind for a few minutes. They looked so peaceful and normal.
Sophia slowed down her pace. Then, she stopped walking completely. Something inside the café caught her eye. The usual noise of the city was still all around them—the clinking of cups and people chatting. But Sophia's eyes went somewhere else. She was not looking at the people or the warm food.
In the corner of the café, hanging high above the counter, a television was mounted on the wall. The news was playing. The captions were moving across the bottom of the screen in bright, flashing yellow letters.
Sophia's body went perfectly still. It was like her feet had suddenly turned into heavy stone. She did not blink. She did not breathe. She just stared at the TV screen through the foggy window.
Romeo was still walking for a second. He took two more steps before he realized she was not walking next to him anymore. He stopped and turned back. He saw her standing there, frozen like a statue in the middle of the busy sidewalk. People had to walk around her, grumbling and complaining because she was in the way.
He was about to ask her what was wrong. He was about to tell her they were going to be late for the theater. But then he saw her face.
All the color had drained from her skin. She looked as white as a clean sheet of paper. Her mouth was slightly open, and her eyes were wide with a look of pure, cold shock. She looked terrified, like she was seeing a ghost from her worst nightmare.
"What is it, Sophia?" he asked quietly. He stepped closer to her and put a hand near her arm. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
She did not answer him. She could not speak. Her throat seemed to be frozen shut by fear.
Romeo followed her gaze. He looked through the window, past the people drinking their lattes, and looked at the television. The moment his eyes hit the screen, his own chest tightened. It felt like a giant, invisible hand was squeezing his ribs so he couldn't breathe. A strange, heavy pressure filled his lungs. It was the terrible feeling you get right before something bad happens—like the heavy silence right before a lightning strike hits a tree.
The screen changed. The news anchor stopped talking and a new image appeared. It was a large, clear picture that Romeo knew very, very well. He knew every line of that face. He knew that cold, serious expression. It was a picture of him—Romeo—standing next to his father, Victor Kane.
Underneath the picture, the yellow letters read: MISSING: SON OF BILLIONAIRE VICTOR KANE. REWARD FOR INFORMATION.
Sophia's fingers slowly tightened around the leather strap of her violin bag until her knuckles turned white. She looked at the screen, then she slowly, very slowly, turned her head to look at Romeo. She looked like she was about to break into a thousand pieces.
What did Sophia see on the news?
Will Sophia finally realize that the boy standing next to her is the son of the man who is hurting the city?
Will Romeo be able to explain, or is it too late for the truth?