Chapter Text
For as long as Benedict Bridgerton could remember, Sophie Baek had been a part of his life. She was the daughter of his father’s business partner, and they had grown up side by side, attending endless gatherings together. She was his best friend, practically family, she was practically his 5th sister.
At least, that’s what everyone said.
Even after her father passed away, Sophie remained a constant presence in the Bridgerton household. She stayed with them during school holidays, joined them on family trips, and became an inseparable part of their lives. It was as though she belonged with them, anything to keep her away from the stepmother who, for reasons no one could quite understand, despised her.
But now… something had shifted. Changed.
Benedict had just returned from a summer abroad, touring Europe as part of his university program. Meanwhile, Sophie had stayed behind in England, diligently working through her apprenticeship at one of the most prestigious patisserie schools, chasing her dream. They had stayed in touch throughout the summer, daily calls, texts, and updates, but he hadn’t told her exactly when he was coming back.
He wanted to surprise her.
The moment his flight landed, Benedict knew where he needed to be. Crabtree’s Café, where Sophie worked, wasn’t far from his family home. Jet lag could wait, this was more important. With his heart pounding in his chest and a small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up at the airport, he headed straight there.
He couldn’t explain it, but as the café came into view, he felt the weight of the summer apart in a way he hadn’t expected. Sophie wasn’t just his best friend anymore, and deep down, he suspected she never had been.
The café door swung open, and he stepped inside, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the warmth of home. His suitcase was still in the car, his clothes rumpled from the long flight, but he didn’t care. He had spent weeks abroad, wandering through foreign streets, sketching strangers in bustling squares, and marveling at sights he’d always dreamed of seeing. Yet, in that moment, none of it compared to this moment, to seeing her again.
She stood behind the counter, her apron tied neatly around her waist, her dark hair swept into a loose bun. She didn’t notice him at first, too focused on frothing milk for a latte as she chatted away to the customer in front of her.
The sun streamed through the café window, casting a golden halo around her, and for a second, he forgot to breathe. She was beautiful, more beautiful than he remembered, though he couldn’t decide if that was because of the time apart or because, finally, he was seeing her clearly.
He had thought of her often while he was away, more than he cared to admit. She was his best friend, the one who’d waved him off at the airport with a teasing smile and a promise to keep the plants in his studio alive. He had replayed that moment in his mind, the way her laughter had followed him through security, the way her voice lingered in his thoughts during quiet nights in unfamiliar cities. But here she was, not just a memory or a voice in his head, she was real, standing only a few steps away.
When she looked up and saw him, her eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting into a radiant smile that sent a jolt through his chest. “You’re back!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with warmth and something else he couldn’t quite name.
He stepped closer, his heart pounding. “I wanted to surprise you,” he said, his voice softer than he intended.
He’d dated while he was away. beautiful women, clever and witty, the kind anyone would dream of. But every connection had felt empty, hollow, as if something vital was missing. He could never quite put his finger on what it was, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise.
But now, he realised why… something had changed within him, something he couldn’t ignore anymore. It wasn’t just that she was his best friend, the person who understood him better than anyone else. It was the way she stood there, so alive, so uniquely her. She wasn’t just his confidante or his muse; she was the one thing he hadn’t found on his travels, the one thing he had been searching for all along.
And now, standing in this little café, he knew he had come home, not to a place, but to her.
But he was certain she’d never return his feelings. She had a boyfriend, or so he’d thought.
What Benedict didn’t know was that Sophie and Karl had broken up just a week into his trip to Europe. Karl had resented the way she always spoke about Benedict. What he was doing, where he was traveling, the stories he’d shared. He hated the hours she spent at the café, at school, or in the kitchen perfecting her craft. And he especially hated that, even in Benedict’s absence, Sophie still went to the Bridgertons' every Sunday for lunch, keeping her ties to them strong.
Their final fight had been explosive. Karl accused her of being in love with Benedict rather than him, and in that moment, as she tried to deny it, the truth hit her like a tidal wave.
She was in love with Benedict. She had been all along, and she hadn’t even realised it until then.
She missed him desperately, more than she thought possible. He had always been her constant, her best friend, her fiercest defender. From the school bullies who mocked her small frame to her cruel stepmother and stepsister, Benedict had always been there, standing beside her. Karl had been right, and the realisation terrified her.
In the weeks that followed, Sophie threw herself into her baking, trying to drown out the ache in her heart with cake and bread. She knew Benedict was having the time of his life in Europe, meeting new people, experiencing new adventures, and yes, dating new women. Every time he casually mentioned a date in their calls or texts, it felt like a knife twisting in her chest. But late at night, when the world was quiet, her thoughts always returned to him. She wondered how it would feel to see him again, whether anything between them would change.
Should she tell him how she felt? Or would it ruin everything?
Kate had often teased her about Benedict, joking that they acted more like a married couple than friends. Sophie always laughed it off, brushing aside the idea that there could ever be something more between them. But as she stood in the café that afternoon, wiping her hands on her apron, and saw Benedict standing there, flowers in hand, clearly fresh off a plane, his eyes lit up just from seeing her, her heart skipped a beat.
“You… you brought me flowers?” she asked, her voice soft, a glimmer of hope and happiness flickering in her eyes.
And in that moment, as their gazes locked, she wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, there was something there after all.
“They... they’re just flowers. Don’t read into it,” Benedict said quickly, glancing down at the bouquet in his hands. His voice was casual, but his chest felt tight as he avoided the glimmer in her dark eyes. He hated that glimmer, because he knew it meant nothing more than the affection of a best friend. A sister, even.
He’d bought her flowers before. They’d never meant anything then, just tokens of their easy friendship. But now? Now he felt like a complete idiot. Who buys flowers for a woman with a boyfriend?
Before Sophie could respond, Mrs. Crabtree, the café’s cheerful owner, bustled out from the back. “Oh, Benedict! What a lovely surprise to see you!” she exclaimed, her smile widening as her eyes fell on the flowers. “And you brought flowers! How thoughtful. Here, let me take those from you! I’m sure you and Sophie have so much to catch up on.”
She whisked the bouquet from his hands before he could protest, looking between him and Sophie with a knowing twinkle in her eye.
But Sophie’s heart, which she thought had already shattered into pieces, broke just a little more at Benedict’s words. Don’t read into it.
She forced herself to smile, though her chest felt like it was caving in. She couldn’t stay there, not now. She needed air, space to gather her thoughts, to push down the lump rising in her throat and the tears that were threatening to flow.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, she realised her shift was over. Grasping at the excuse, she shook her head and mumbled, “I have… I have to go. I’ve got a… thing… with… someone.” The words tumbled out, half-formed and unconvincing, but she didn’t care.
Sophie untied her apron, her fingers fumbling as she avoided Benedict’s gaze, and bolted for the back door. Her scooter was parked behind the café, and she practically leapt onto it, shoving her helmet on as her pulse pounded in her ears.
Moments later, she was speeding away, the wind whipping at her face, and she didn’t stop until the café and the ache in her chest were far behind her.