Chapter 149: Home

Chapter 149: Home
Sophia’s POV

I had imagined a lot of things in my life.

Success. Power. A life built on my terms, with my rules.

But this?

Standing in the middle of a house that Travis had crafted from my scattered, mindless comments—a house that was built on love, on knowing me, on listening to me in ways I hadn’t even realized he was doing—

This, I had never let myself imagine.

Because fuck—

That would’ve been too much to ask for.

And yet—

Here it was.

Here he was.

And fuck, I didn’t even know what to do with the way my chest felt too tight, too full, too overwhelmed with everything he had done.

I took a slow step forward, running my fingers over the edge of the kitchen island, my mind spinning back to every casual conversation we had ever had about a dream home.

I had thought we were just talking.

I had thought none of it mattered.

But Travis?

Travis had stored every detail away, shaping this place into a reflection of what I didn’t even realize I had wanted.

I could see me in every corner of this house.

I could see him in every inch of space.

It was us, woven together so effortlessly that I wondered if he had planned this all along.

"Say something, sweetheart," Travis murmured, his voice lower now, more careful.

I turned to face him, my fingers still pressed against the smooth countertop.

"I don’t know what to say," I admitted.

His lips quirked slightly, his eyes watching me too closely. "A first."

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. "You really did all of this?"

"Every last piece of it," he confirmed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I told you, Sophia. I don’t do anything halfway. When it comes to you? I make damn sure it’s perfect."

Fuck.

I should’ve been used to his intensity by now.

To the way he poured everything into the things he cared about, into the people he loved.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

I walked further into the living room, letting my hands graze over the soft fabric of the couch, the way the space felt both open and warm at the same time.

There was a large bookshelf lining one of the walls, filled with books I knew Travis had never picked up in his life—

But I had.

Books he had seen me reading.

Books I had talked about once and never mentioned again.

Books he had bought for me.

My throat tightened.

"Travis," I whispered, turning back toward him.

He was watching me like he was waiting for something.

Like he was waiting for me to really understand.

Like he was waiting for me to realize what he was really saying with all of this.

And fuck—

I did.

Because this wasn’t just a house.

It wasn’t just a gesture.

It was his way of saying everything he had ever wanted to say to me without words.

It was proof that he knew me better than anyone else ever had.

It was his way of telling me that I wasn’t just his present, I was his goddamn future.

And fuck—

I had never been more in love with him than I was in this moment.

"Come here, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice softer now, deeper.

And fuck—

I didn’t even hesitate.

I walked straight into his arms, letting him wrap me up, letting his warmth sink into my skin, letting myself feel every piece of what this moment meant.

His lips pressed against my temple, lingering, like he was grounding me.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his breath warm against my skin.

I exhaled shakily, tightening my hold on him.

"I love it," I whispered.

His grip on me tightened.

"Good," he murmured, his lips brushing against my forehead. "Because this is ours now, sweetheart. You and me. This house. This life. Our future."

And fuck—

I knew it was.

I knew I had never belonged anywhere more than I belonged right here.

With him.

In our home.