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A Mirror Too Honest

Chapter 3 DEADLINES VS. DOODLES

Word Count: 2997    |    Released on: 26/11/2025

DEADLINES

al for what had happened last night-texts from a stranger, a note s

y slept. She had

fear was a luxury for people who didn't have deadli

office, she could feel her pulse b

s alrea

rrived ear

a pencil nervously against his notebook,

phi

g different today. Less t

early,"

're

fened. "

right before they fain

ea

s hair. "I just... wanted to see

wed. "You got

ghtening. "And th

ispered. "Th

licker-fear passed between

phia shut i

r laptop with clipped movements. "We have a project. We

lling his sketchpad clos

at in

peacef

ind that builds walls in

fast, precise

lly, with exaggerated pen stro

tes she slammed

you

d. "Can I n

sketchpad. "You're scribbling like you

the page. "I'm

ike you're s

you're punishin

effic

re vi

her nose. "Dean, deadli

s require c

alism. Not a c

ter. "Comics are

ns sharing

as a me

wha

ring so wildly the pencil flew from his

er eyes. "This

. "Trying to collaborate with someone who

e my wa

rob

adu

pointing at himself.

descript

rms crossed. "You really

ia f

meant to sa

for it to sound l

ected quickly. "And I don't

hink that'

idn't

It startled her. He had always been disarmingly war

looke

ke again, his v

ow I'm not easy to work w

sty ratt

ed out of nowhere-coffee in hand, eyebrows r

appening?"

ned immediately.

're auditioning for

t her. "She th

aos," Soph

deeply it could've po

m. "This isn't a debate club. This is a

her arms. "We n

ketchpad. "We nee

ed boun

d breath

he bridge of his nos

th fell

oking between them like he was pie

he said. "You two are not a

choked.

h dropped o

need to learn each other's style. Learn how to communicate without homicide

hythm," Sop

luntly. "You ha

a hand. "I h

thusiasm," the

pou

uldn't be

ly calm, "your solution is to f

es

re we talking? Because I don't want to acciden

ou take up too mu

uum oxygen o

nds sharply. "Enough. Tod

choed in horr

ople. Couples, singles, strangers, whoever.

a gro

bing his backpack. "F

nd. "No. No field t

l. "And Sophia-take notes. Dean-do sketches. D

anted to

d to ask f

who had survived too many of their a

eath. "Fine. Let's ju

at energy. Super excited to

Not t

day is

ed his ar

iled

et. The sun was too bright, the wind too sh

sked, swinging his backpack

here q

here l

eyes. "We need a

ople walk dogs. Dogs are emotional cr

ence made

rarely

rt of her chest th

"Couples talk there. Singles talk there. A

ed. "Coffee

down the street,

qu

d, "So... abou

a sti

it

ation she d

t," she w

" His voice was g

k at him. "I w

u were

opped

rn

his

et scared,

oftened. "Everyo

t m

human,

cond-long enough to feel someth

shed past them, bumping Sophia's sho

ntly, grabbing her

ay?" he

t her heart had

didn't stop. Didn't apolog

alking-hood up,

sappear into the crowd

d her gaze.

ng," s

followed her

imed as they entered. Couples chatted, frie

ner booth before

ith simple questions. We approach people p

lready wan

" she

eir sixties holding hands-and smiled charmin

e lit up

across the room, u

ce was

sture

esence

oke easil

ea

ng them-quick strokes, flu

a exh

the counter and beginning her own intervi

uld do

uld do

r, she returned to

ketchpad

d dra

artoo

xagge

mock

nsion in her posture, the fierceness behind

a way that made h

me," she s

stant. Like your mind was somewhe

"Don't draw me w

sketchpad sl

een them-something she

could speak, someone

blood tur

rson who had bumpe

e h

s buried

d

taring dire

ession change ins

dn't a

inside... then slipped some

no

ted a

llowed

.. who i

now," she

gure t

shed out

heart pounding as she grabbed

right b

nfold

sent

t o

h running o

s breat

e broke low

someone's f

lights

omach

ne wa

was wa

nted them

were su

t follow he

se he d

e mechanical click of a pen being capped. Slow. Too slow. He's doing it deliberately. That casual, in

posite

ps behind her, longer and looser than hers. Somehow

a," he

oesn'

nd she refuses to explode in fr

hia-

st

doesn'

l choice irritates her more than the argument itself. He wants

want to be

she asks

of his neck. "Look,

not

're

ats, even though her le

ng that thi

t th

nched to death. Like your teeth

ns even more.

both hands in surrend

finish starting

t, too warm, too unb

tress, impenetrable and controlled. But Dean has this ridiculous,

gh

n she's

ates

uinely uneasy for the fi

ight," he s

phia least expect

ns to face him

"About the tone. About the resear

"Are you bei

That's how she knows he's serious. "I didn't ta

ms but not tightly

kind of breath someone uses

hard at something importan

rms fall t

Not from him. Not after the past few

to do with vulnerabili

this up," she says, s

t y

s expression. Something he tries to

rgan is

dn't hav

ring his throat. "Tru

on't know if we can ke

t's

. I have s

kno

deadl

initel

sys

I know

nd

eps c

cl

she feels his brea

he asks, not te

al or physical. Closeness complicates everything. Closeness is m

she says abrupt

slowly. "O

e stick to t

on

we communic

oo

e: no dist

intly. "Define

Mostly

and genuine. "Alright.

ng her chin. "We don't interfere

ion flickers.

... you," she s

... you," h

s it, because that's a dead-end

. Another truce gestu

s her hand in his,

a warmth that lingers too long. His fingers tighten just slightly

ulls awa

ing her throat. "Then l

follows her do

into the shared workspace, t

es not loo

itor's

rossed. Her express

she o

ts imme

slowly, mentally

ted stack of their

t collaboration. This is two peo

fens. "I ca

"I don't want explanat

louche

d to figure this out. Because right now, t

s stoma

g by how he straig

-two hours to show me progress. Rea

s heart

gn the

ything she

he late

he sacr

s instantly. "We

use right now, Sophia, you look like you'

glances

perceptible shake of his he

venty-two hours. Consider

she l

she leaves behin

ales. "Well. Tha

is a storm. "

grees. "But

ice so

ed hon

p sharply.

irectly in

with me scare

roat g

t the lie she always

through he

fying in ways she

she begi

errupts. "Just a

is no long

ger ca

nger

asks quietly, "or are

lams agains

ens he

fice door

ber appears

You two need to come

phia demands, strai

member swa

she says. "Someone ju

a fre

so fast his

eaked?" Sophia asks

ember's voi

t. And the comments ar

lse spikes.

f member sha

ut Angela wants b

oks at

looks a

hing f

hing c

esn't just want th

nts to sab

eth

their collaboration. And Sophia is forced to confr

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A Mirror Too Honest
A Mirror Too Honest
“‎ ‎ ‎Sophia Hayes has perfected the art of control. In the high-pressure world of The Metropolitan, she's the youngest senior journalist ever hired-an achievement built on ruthless discipline, flawless execution, and a reputation that makes even seasoned reporters double-check their facts before speaking to her. She is sharp. Unshakeable. Precise to the bone. Her life runs on deadlines, color-coded calendars, and emotional walls tall enough to withstand anything. ‎ ‎Dean Mercer is everything she isn't-and everything she doesn't have time for. A wildly successful illustrator whose comic series Love Is a Mess has a cult following online, Dean lives in a world where structure is optional and inspiration is everything. His apartment is chaos. His sleep schedule is chaos. His heart is chaos. He creates brilliance in messy strokes but hides his deepest truths behind humor, charm, and a smile that masks more wounds than he lets on. ‎ ‎So when the magazine pairs them for a high-stakes project-a revolutionary feature blending investigative journalism with illustrated storytelling-everyone expects disaster. Sophia expects worse. ‎ ‎Their assignment: explore modern love through real stories across the city. Raw, unfiltered, unpredictable love. ‎ ‎Exactly the kind of assignment that makes Sophia want to run. ‎ ‎Dean arrives late to their first meeting with coffee stains and excuses. Sophia arrives with a binder thick enough to double as a weapon. Dean studies her timeline like it's written in a foreign language. Sophia studies Dean like he's a problem she needs to solve before he derails everything she's built. ‎ ‎Their partnership begins in sparks-sharp, heated, dangerous sparks. ‎Arguments disguised as discussions. ‎Discussions disguised as power struggles. ‎Power struggles disguised as creative differences. ‎ ‎But tension has a habit of twisting into something else when the nights grow long. ‎ ‎As they dive into the city-interviewing strangers whose love stories survived decades, storms, heartbreaks, second chances-something shifts between them. Slowly. Quietly. Against both of their wills. ‎ ‎Sophia begins to see past Dean's easy humor to the man underneath-the one who fears failing the people he cares about, who draws comics because it's the only way he knows how to tell the truth. And Dean sees the cracks in Sophia's armor-the vulnerability she protects like a secret, the softness she doesn't show, the fire in her that the world misunderstands as coldness. ‎ ‎Their conversations deepen. Their arguments soften. Their laughter blends. ‎And the chemistry-the kind they both pretend not to notice-tightens around them like an invisible thread. ‎ ‎But the closer they get, the heavier the air becomes. Because both of them are hiding something. ‎ ‎Sophia hides her fear of losing control. ‎Dean hides his fear of being the reason someone gets hurt. ‎ ‎And the feature they're creating-meant to uncover the truth about modern love-begins exposing truths they never meant to reveal. About each other. About themselves. ‎ ‎Their late-night work sessions grow intimate, electric. Their stories blur with the stories they're collecting. Dean sketches Sophia without meaning to-capturing expressions she never lets the world see. Sophia writes notes about him she can't bring herself to delete. Something real starts forming in the space between them, fragile but undeniable. ‎ ‎Until the past they both buried finds them. ‎ ‎A mistake from Dean's life-one he thought he'd left behind-reaches the editorial floor at the worst possible time. A detail with enough weight to derail the feature, shatter their progress, and wound the one person who finally saw him clearly. ‎ ‎Sophia's instinct is survival. Run before she gets hurt. Seal her heart before it cracks open. Dean's instinct is retreat. Protect her from the version of himself he fears is still true. ‎ ‎Deadlines tighten. Trust fractures. ‎Their work stalls, their communication splinters, and the connection they've been dancing around threatens to snap under the strain. ‎ ‎But desire doesn't listen to logic. ‎And hearts don't obey deadlines. ‎ ‎Even as they pull away, they keep orbiting each other-drawn back together by an ache neither can extinguish. Their arguments deepen into something rawer, heavier. Their silence holds more meaning than their words. ‎ ‎They must choose: ‎fight for the story that could define their careers... ‎or fight for the connection that could rewrite their futures. ‎ ‎And when an unexpected message, a truth revealed too late, and one irreversible decision collide, they're forced to confront the question their feature was meant to answer: ‎ ‎What does love look like today- ‎and can two people living at opposite rhythms find it before it slips through their fingers? ‎ ‎On the edge of losing their partnership... ‎their second chance... ‎and each other... ‎ ‎”