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Benedict Bridgerton had officially lost control of the evening.
It started as a favour, a bit of brotherly guilt and nostalgia. Hyacinth wanted to go trick-or-treating, and since she was twelve going on thirty, she’d insisted she was too old to be chaperoned by anyone but him.
He’d agreed, mostly because it gave him something to do other than stare at the empty space on his sofa where Sophie used to sit.
It had been five weeks since the breakup.
Five long tortuous weeks, since the woman he’d fallen in love with over the summer, the one who’d laughed with him under string lights, stolen his shirts, and left her favourite book on his nightstand, had ended things the moment term started.
Because she was Hyacinth’s maths teacher.
Because she was “doing the right thing.”
Because rules mattered more than hearts and he didn’t want to ruin her career.
He’d respected it.
He hated it.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about her.
“Ben,” Hyacinth said now, tugging on his sleeve as they walked up a quiet, tree-lined street, “this one’s good. Like, really good.”
He frowned. “Hyacinth, you said that five houses ago.”
“This one’s different,” she said, too quickly. “You’ll see.”
Something in her tone made him narrow his eyes, but before he could question her, she was halfway up the path, ringing the bell of a tidy brick house with fairy lights in the window and a single carved pumpkin by the door.
Inside, footsteps approached.
And then the door opened.
The world seemed to stutter.
Sophie.
Her eyes went wide, the colour draining from her face. She was in jeans and a soft cream jumper, her beautiful dark hair loose around her shoulders. She looked exactly the same and completely different, softer, sadder, beautiful in a way that hurt to look at.
“Hyacinth,” she said slowly, like she wasn’t sure this was real. “What…what a surprise.”
Hyacinth beamed. “Hi, Miss Baek! Trick or treat!”
Sophie blinked, struggling to find her teacher-voice. “Oh, of course.” She reached into her candy bowl and dropped a few bars into Hyacinth’s pumpkin bucket. “That’s a lovely costume. You’re…”
“A Witch queen,” Hyacinth said proudly, then added, “And you remember my brother, Benedict.”
Sophie’s gaze flicked to him. “ye…yeah,” she stammered.
“Evening,” he managed, voice low and rough. “Didn’t realise you lived here.”
“I moved,” she said quietly. “Needed… a change.”
There was an ache behind those words that neither of them wanted to touch.
Hyacinth, meanwhile, was practically glowing with triumph. “See, Ben? Told you this neighbourhood was the best.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Hyacinth…”
But before he could finish, she brushed past Sophie and walked straight into the house.
“Hyacinth!” Sophie exclaimed, spinning around. “You can’t just…”
“Oh, relax,” Hyacinth said over her shoulder, already kicking off her shoes. “You like me. I know I am your favourite student.” She dropped her candy bucket on Sophie’s hallway table and turned, hands on her hips. “Now sit. Both of you.”
Sophie blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Hyacinth pointed to the sofa. “You two are being ridiculous. You’re both miserable, and I’m tired of it. So, we’re fixing this.”
Benedict ran a hand down his face. “Hyacinth, I don’t think…”
“Shut up,” she said sweetly. “You had your turn. Now it’s mine.”
Sophie stared, completely thrown. “Hyacinth…
“No, Miss Baek,” Hyacinth said with all the authority of a Regency matriarch. “You broke up with my brother because you’re my teacher, and that’s stupid. There’s nothing in the school rules about dating a student’s brother, nothing about having a personal relationship with someone connected to the school or the students because I checked.”
“You what?”
“I checked,” Hyacinth repeated. “You’re the same age. You don’t even work at the same building as Mum or anything. There’s no rule. You just decided to ruin both your lives for fun.”
Sophie’s mouth opened, then closed. “Hyacinth…”
“No.” The girl crossed her arms. “You love him. I know you do. You told Mrs. Gibson when she asked why you were sad last week. You said, and I quote, ‘It doesn’t matter if I love him; I have to do the right thing.’”
She turned on her brother. “And you told Eloise that Sophie was ‘the one who got away because the universe has a sick sense of humour.’”
Both adults froze.
Hyacinth smirked, satisfied. “So, yeah. You’re both idiots.”
Benedict made a strangled sound. “You were listening to me and Eloise?”
“Not my fault you both talk loudly,” she said breezily. “Now, are you going to fix this, or do I need to start writing your wedding vows for you?”
Sophie pressed a hand to her forehead. “Hyacinth…”
“I want to be a bridesmaid,” Hyacinth declared, utterly serious. “So please, for the love of all things chocolate, talk to each other. I’ll be in the kitchen. Don’t mess this up.” she said pointing and glaring at her brother.
And just like that, she marched off, leaving two stunned adults in her wake.
The silence that followed was heavy and brittle. Sophie looked down at her hands, cheeks flushed, voice barely a whisper.
“I can’t believe she just…”
Benedict exhaled a shaky laugh. “You can’t believe she said it, or that she’s right?”
Sophie’s eyes lifted to his, full of everything she’d tried to bury. “Both.”
He took a step closer, then another, until there were only inches between them. “Then maybe we stop pretending it was ever just summer.”
Her breath caught, her pulse visible at her throat. “Ben…”
He smiled faintly, a touch sad, a touch hopeful. “Hyacinth did say she wanted to be a bridesmaid, you can’t disappoint your favourite student can you?”
That earned him the tiniest, trembling laugh , the sound he’d missed more than anything.
Sophie stood by the arm of her sofa, heart hammering, while Benedict remained where he was , framed by the soft glow of the porch light spilling in from the hall. She could hear Hyacinth clattering about in the kitchen, loudly and unconvincingly humming the Addams Family theme.
Neither spoke for a long time.
Finally, Benedict broke the silence.
“I respect why you ended it,” he said quietly. His voice was steady, but there was something raw beneath it , that kind of calm people use when they’re trying not to come apart. “I know it came from a good place. You were thinking about Hyacinth, your job, what people might say. I get it.”
Sophie’s fingers curled into the fabric of her jumper. “It wasn’t fair to you, to drag it out...”
“It wasn’t fair to either of us,” he said. “Because I’ve been miserable without you.”
Her breath hitched, and she looked up , really looked at him. He looked tired. Older. Like the weeks had carved something hollow behind his eyes. “Ben…”
“I miss you, Sophie.” His voice softened, and he took a careful step toward her. “I miss your coffee in the morning. I miss your terrible playlists. I miss the way you steal the duvet and pretend not to. I even miss how you correct my grammar.”
That startled a small, choked laugh out of her. “It’s because you text like a twelve-year-old.”
“I know.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “And I miss being told off for it.”
He took another step closer, slow, giving her time to stop him , but she didn’t.
“I love you,” he said simply. “I’ve tried not to say it because I didn’t want to make things harder, but I do. I love you, and I don’t see the point in pretending I don’t.”
Sophie’s throat tightened. “You can’t just say that and expect everything to go back to…”
“I don’t,” he interrupted softly. “I’m not asking for everything to go back. I’m asking for something. For a chance to find a way through this that isn’t us pretending it didn’t matter.”
Her eyes burned. “You think I wanted this?” she whispered. “You think I wanted to walk away?”
“No,” he said gently. “I think you were scared.”
That hit her harder than he knew. Because he was right.
She’d told herself it was about rules, boundaries, professionalism , but really, it was about fear. Fear of what people would say. Fear of losing control. Fear of how much she already loved him.
Benedict took one last step, close enough now that she could feel the warmth of him, smell the faint trace of cologne she’d once kept on her pillow.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” he murmured. “I just want you. Even if we have to be careful. Even if we have to keep it quiet until the school year’s over. I’d rather have part of you than nothing.”
She closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek before she could stop it. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” he said, voice low, certain. “You love me too, Soph. I know you do.”
She didn’t answer , couldn’t , but he saw it anyway, the truth written all over her face.
From the kitchen, there was a muffled clunk , the sound of Hyacinth pretending to rearrange cutlery and failing miserably at being subtle.
Sophie let out a soft, shaky laugh. “Your sister’s eavesdropping.”
“I know,” he murmured, smiling faintly. “It’s sort of her thing.”
She hesitated, then looked up at him through wet lashes. “What are we supposed to do, Ben?”
He reached up, brushing his thumb gently across her cheek, wiping away a tear. “We start with this,” he said softly. “With being honest. Without pretending we’re strangers at the door.”
And maybe it was reckless, but when she leaned in, he didn’t stop her.
Their lips met, slow and uncertain at first, then deeper , a kiss full of everything they hadn’t said, everything they still wanted.
From the kitchen came a triumphant whisper: “Finally.”
They broke apart, laughing through the tears.
“Hyacinth,” Sophie groaned, blushing furiously.
Benedict smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “She gets it from her teacher.”
Sophie’s cheeks were still pink when they pulled apart, laughter catching softly between them. She shook her head, brushing her thumb over the lapel of his coat.
“She didn’t get it from me,” she murmured. “She’s a Bridgerton. She gets it from you.”
Benedict’s grin widened. “Unfair. I’m nothing like her.”
Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Please. I know Kate.”
He blinked. “What does Kate have to do with this?”
“That’s how we met, remember?” she said, a smile tugging at her lips despite everything. “Her charity event? She introduced us because she said you were the ‘least annoying’ of your brothers. Which, frankly, is not a high bar.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Remind me to thank her for the glowing endorsement.”
“I already did,” Sophie said. “She took credit for all of this.”
“All of this?” he teased, gesturing between them. “Or the part where you dumped me because you panicked?”
She swatted at him. “Don’t push your luck.”
“I’m only saying—”
“Ben.”
He grinned, surrendering. “Fine. I’ll stop before you revoke my forgiveness.”
Before either of them could say anything more, Hyacinth reappeared from the kitchen, wearing an expression of wide-eyed innocence that fooled no one.
“Oh, good,” she said brightly, glancing between them. “You’re done being dramatic.”
“Hyacinth,” Benedict warned.
She ignored him, stepping into the living room with her arms full of Sophie’s Halloween sweets. “We should get going, you know. There’s still time to hit the rest of the street. Lots of houses. Lots of chocolate and Haribo to collect.”
Benedict looked at her flatly. “You’ve got enough sugar in your arms to last until Easter.”
“Never enough sweets,” she said primly. “And besides, you two clearly needed to talk, so I gave you space. You’re welcome.”
Sophie bit back a laugh. “That’s very… considerate of you, Hyacinth.”
“Thanks! I try.” She flashed them both a grin, far too smug for someone under fifteen. “So, shall we?”
Benedict groaned. “Hyacinth, can’t we just stop for a bit? My legs are tired.”
“You’ve walked six houses,” she deadpanned.
“Exactly,” he said solemnly. “A marathon.”
Sophie laughed outright this time, the sound soft and light, and it hit Benedict square in the chest.
“Tell you what,” she said, eyes twinkling, “how about I make some hot chocolate? You can both warm up before you continue your marathon.”
Benedict turned instantly. “Deal.”
Hyacinth squinted at him. “You just don’t want to leave.”
“Correct,” he said without shame. “I’ll buy you more chocolate and sweets tomorrow if we can just stay here for a bit longer.”
Hyacinth pretended to consider it, for approximately half a second, before dropping her pumpkin bucket, kicking off her shoes, and collapsing onto Sophie’s sofa with the remote. “Fine,” she said, grinning like the cat that caught the cream. “But I want more than just sweets.”
Sophie blinked, amused and wary. “Such as?”
Hyacinth pointed the remote at the TV, flicking it on. “A wedding. Preferably soon. And I’m still claiming a bridesmaid spot.”
Sophie laughed, heading toward the kitchen. “You’re unbelievable.”
Hyacinth called after her, voice sing-song and entirely too pleased with herself. “You love me, Miss Baek!”
“I did,” Sophie said over her shoulder, though her voice was warm. “Now I’m reconsidering.”
Benedict sank onto the sofa beside his sister, watching Sophie disappear into the kitchen, his smile soft and content for the first time in weeks.
Hyacinth smirked up at him. “You owe me for the rest of your life.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”
“And I better be a bridesmaid,” she added, just as the kettle began to whistle.
Benedict leaned back, eyes still fixed on the kitchen doorway, voice full of quiet certainty. “You will be.”
Hyacinth’s grin widened. “Good.”
She turned up the TV volume, settling in. “Now move over. We’re watching Hocus Pocus.”
And for the first time in weeks, everything felt a little lighter.