Chapter 148: More Than a Dream

Chapter 148: More Than a Dream
Sophia’s POV

I couldn't breathe.

Not in the way that meant panic or fear—but in the way that came from being so overwhelmed that my brain couldn’t keep up with my heart.

I stared at the house in front of me.

The house I had once pointed out in passing, the house I had thought about long after we had walked past it that day.

The house I had never let myself dream about because it wasn’t mine to dream of.

And yet—

It was right here.

And fuck—

I wasn’t ready for what that meant.

Travis had told me he bought it.

That day in the hospital, after the accident, when I had barely been conscious enough to process anything, he had said the words—

"I bought the house, sweetheart."

At the time, I had thought he was just saying anything to keep me from thinking about the pain, the recovery, the damage I had to fix in my body and in my mind.

I hadn’t believed him.

Not really.

Not fully.

And after that?

We never talked about it again.

But now—

Now, I was standing right in front of it.

Now, it was real.

"Come on, sweetheart," Travis murmured, his hand warm around mine as he pulled me forward. "Let’s go inside."

I followed on autopilot, my brain still trying to catch up.

My feet hit the porch, and I swore the air shifted around me.

Like this place already knew me.

Like it had been waiting for me.

Travis pushed open the door, guiding me inside.

And fuck—

That’s when I really stopped breathing.

The living room was warm, inviting, familiar in a way that didn’t make sense.

The color of the walls?

Exactly what I had described once, in passing, over coffee.

The furniture?

Pieces I had stopped to admire when we were out but never thought twice about.

The kitchen?

Spacious, bright, with an island exactly the way I had said I would want one.

Everywhere I looked—

There were pieces of me.

Pieces of us.

"You—" My throat was tight. "You did all of this?"

Travis turned to face me, his eyes steady, sure, completely unreadable except for one thing—certainty.

"For you," he said simply.

My chest ached.

"But—" I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "Travis, how?"

"You told me," he shrugged. "Not all at once. Not in a way you thought was important. But I remembered, sweetheart. I listened. Every little thing you ever said about what home would feel like to you? I made it happen."

His voice was so matter-of-fact, like it wasn’t a monumental, earth-shattering thing he had done.

Like it was natural.

Like of course he had spent months turning this place into everything I could ever want.

Like of course he had taken every offhanded comment, every fleeting thought, every unspoken wish and turned them into reality.

Like of course he had built me a home.

Tears pricked at my eyes before I could stop them.

I wasn’t even sure why.

Maybe because I had never had anything like this before.

Maybe because no one had ever done anything like this for me before.

Maybe because I had spent so long convincing myself that I wasn’t the kind of person who got things like this.

But Travis?

Travis had never let me believe that.

"Hey," his voice softened, his thumb brushing my cheek, catching a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. "Too much?"

I exhaled shakily, my hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.

"No," I whispered. "Not too much. Just… more than I ever imagined."

His lips quirked slightly, his fingers tilting my chin up.

"That’s the point, sweetheart."

And fuck—

That was when I knew.

Knew without a doubt.

That this—this house, this life, this man—

It was always meant to be mine.