Guarded Hearts - A Bodyguard Romance

——— SOFIE ———

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Once.

Sofie von Essen didn’t open her eyes.

A moment later, it vibrated again, the sound sharper now, more insistent.

She rolled onto her side and buried her face in the pillow.

No checking it first thing in the morning, Sofie.

Mornings were sacred. Mornings were hers. Whatever waited behind that glowing screen could wait another five minutes.

Sunlight spilled across the apartment in that particular, velvety gold that only happened in early summer. As if someone had adjusted the saturation just enough to convince you that life was, in fact, under control.

Sofie squinted against the brightness and groaned softly into her pillow.

She lay still for a moment, cataloguing sensations. The quiet. The unfamiliar weight of her own bed after weeks of hotel sheets. The faint ache in her calves from too many hours in heels. Jet lag still clung to her, but for once she didn’t have to fight it.

No call time.

No car waiting downstairs.

No face to assemble before dawn.

Her phone buzzed again.

She smiled anyway. Finally - a free Saturday.

She pushed herself upright and padded barefoot across the warm herringbone floor, hair twisted into a lazy knot. A white tiled stove stood quietly in the corner, ornamental and unused, waiting for winter.

The apartment was still cool from the night air, a tall window cracked open toward the water. Outside, Strandvägen was already alive in that restrained, elegant way Stockholm did during weekend mornings - cyclists gliding past, tourists lingering with cameras, the city waking without fuss. Sofie opened one cupboard. Then another.

Empty. She frowned. The fridge offered even less encouragement.

A lonely onion.

Half a bottle of mineral water.

A questionable jar of something orange she didn’t remember buying.

She stared at it for a long second.

“Just great,” she muttered to herself. “A meal plan curated by past-me, who clearly hated future-me.” She closed the door with a soft thud.

She had flown home two days ago, dropped her suitcase in the hallway, promised herself she’d go grocery shopping tomorrow. But then tomorrow had turned into fittings and a last-minute dinner she hadn’t planned on attending, followed by exhaustion.

Coffee.

She had forgotten to buy coffee.

Sofie leaned her forehead briefly against the cool cabinet door and laughed under her breath.

Thirty-two years old, countless international modelling campaigns under her belt, capable of running between three cities in a week without losing her passport - defeated by an empty kitchen.

Fine.

She straightened, rolled her shoulders back, and reached for her phone. It vibrated immediately in her hand.

She sighed, unlocked it, already knowing what she’d find. More than a hundred new DMs. She didn’t read any right away. Instead, she stared at the screen, thumb hovering, irritation flaring sharp and familiar.

There had been a lot of them lately. More than usual. Or maybe she’d just been too tired to filter them out with her usual indifference.

She opened the first one.

You looked incredible yesterday. I saw you.

A woman like you shouldn’t walk home alone.

Sofie exhaled through her nose. That tone. That unsettling blend of admiration and assumption. Not a threat, exactly. Just enough to feel… intrusive.

She locked the phone without replying.

Creeps existed everywhere. TikTok, Instagram, Facebook and sometimes even LinkedIn, which always felt like a particularly unhinged place to flirt with strangers. Most of them blurred together - men who mistook access for intimacy, attention for invitation.

This one, though, had been persistent. She had too many ‘fans’ to count, but there was a particular one that crept her out more than the others.

He used the same phrasing. Same rhythm. New accounts popped up every time she blocked the old ones, as if it was a game. A dull one, but still.

She shook her head, refusing to let it set the tone for the day.

Coffee first. Then everything else.

Sofie pulled on comfy grey Lululemon joggers and an oversized white cardigan, tied her blonde hair back into a ponytail, slid on her sunglasses, and grabbed her tote bag.

Outside, the air smelled like lilacs, sea breeze, and early summer – clean, soft. She inhaled deeply as she stepped out of the apartment gates.

The city greeted her like an old friend. Her favorite café on the corner already had a short line, the familiar hum of espresso machines drifting through the open door. She ordered an oat latte and an almond croissant, accepted both with a grateful smile, and stepped back into the sunlight. The first bite of the croissant was perfect - flaky, buttery, restorative.

As she was mid-munch her phone rang. Freya.

Sofie smiled as she answered, crumbs threatening to betray her composure. “Morning.”

“Let me guess, you’re munching on a croissant? Almond?” Freya said.

Sofie smiled. “How did you know?”

“How long have we known each other?” Freya laughed.

There was a pause on the other end. A subtle one, but Sofie caught it.

“Hey,” she said, leaning against a lamppost. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Freya replied quickly. Too quickly. “Or, well. I just… things feel a bit off with Jon.”

Sofie listened, letting the city flow around her. “Off how?”

“He’s busy. And so am I. He can’t visit from New York, and now he’s going to Paris and I can’t go. For different reasons...” Freya exhaled slowly. “We’re always chasing something. Flights, events, deadlines. Sometimes it feels like I’m not really part of his life. Just… nearby.”

Sofie didn’t interrupt. Freya would get there on her own.

“I’m probably overthinking,” she added. “Good news is that our New York store is doing incredibly well, the social media circus is insane right now, and I should be grateful. I am grateful.”

“You’re allowed to be grateful and feel lonely at the same time,” Sofie said gently.

Freya laughed softly. “God. Why are you always so right?”

“Annoying habit.”

They drifted into lighter territory after that - a fashion director’s latest meltdown at Freya’s office, the chaos at Sofie’s last shoot. Then over to their friend Leo’s continued survival of what Freya referred to as another Grindr marathon, which Sofie suspected involved at least one questionable life choice.

“I actually have a calm week,” Sofie said, surprising herself a little as she said it. “Just a few fittings in Stockholm, then Copenhagen in two weeks. That’s a big shoot, though.”

“You should come out with me and Leo before you disappear again,” Freya said. “Dinner. Drinks. Something normal.”

Sofie smiled. “I’d love that.” Then she added, “Also, midsummer’s approaching. You are absolutely not skipping it.”

Freya groaned. “I’ll… think about it.”

“You’re coming,” Sofie corrected, smiling. “This is not up for discussion. You need to live a little, even if the one you love is on the other side of the Atlantic.”

They hung up a few minutes later, leaving Sofie standing alone again, croissant finished, coffee half gone. The city sounds returned, softer now.

She checked her phone out of habit. New DMs.

Why won’t you answer me?

We are meant to be.

You are so perfect.

She rolled her eyes, deleted and blocked. Nothing unusual. Just noise.

She drained the rest of her coffee and started walking.

Instead of going straight home, she turned toward Östermalm Market Hall, letting her feet take her there on autopilot. Inside, it was already busy, sunlight filtering through the small windows, the air thick with the scent of fresh pastries, bread, cheese, and coffee.

She wandered slowly, unhurried. Picked up some aged cheese she didn’t need but wanted. Paused at Lisa Elmqvist’s counter and smiled in relief at the sight of neatly arranged ready-made meals.

“Perfect,” she murmured, selecting salmon for later. No cooking for her tonight.

She added a loaf of bread, some fruit, and then - remembering her earlier frustration - ducked into the grocery section to grab coffee pods for her machine.

Her phone started ringing.

She hesitated, then answered when she saw Ellie’s name.

“Hey you,” Sofie said.

“Finally,” her sister replied. “I was starting to think you’d been swallowed whole by yet another fashion shoot.”

“Almost,” Sofie said, smiling. “How’s London?”

“Busy. Chaotic. Amazing.” Ellie’s voice brightened. “And - I have some great news,” Ellie said. “I might get an internship next spring. With one of the best architecture firms here.”

Sofie slowed by a display of fruit, pride warming her chest. “That’s huge, Ellie. That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Ellie said, a little breathless. “It feels like… like something is actually clicking into place.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Sofie said, and meant it. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”

They drifted easily from there - Ellie’s upcoming classes, Sofie’s summer travel schedule, their parents’ increasingly unsubtle attempts to set them up with nice, suitable men.

“Honestly,” Ellie said, “if I hear the phrase he’s from a good family one more time -”

Sofie sighed. “I know. I’m close to telling them I’ve joined a convent. Or that I have a strict policy against dating men who could actually commit.” Ellie laughed. “Speaking of. Are you seeing anyone?”

Sofie snorted quietly. “No.”

“No as in no one, or no as in no one Mother would approve of?”

“Your first option” Sofie said. “I’m starting to think it’s a lost cause. Between the rich, noble candidates our parents keep floating - half of whom are already married - and my actual life, I don’t know when it’s supposed to happen.”

“Don’t you meet anyone through work?”

Sofie hummed thoughtfully as she stopped by the chocolate stand, briefly considering whether buying one of everything counted as self-care.

“Mostly men who are beautiful, painfully aware of it, and therefore completely full of themselves. Emotionally about five years old. Or gay. Often all of the above.”

She paused. “Actually - that’s unfair. The gay men are the only bright spot.”

“That sounds… exhausting,” Ellie said.

“It is,” Sofie agreed. “At least with my gay friends I get great conversations about shoes, bags, and life. Very little heartbreak.”

She hesitated. “Most men I’ve dated the past few years are either intimidated by me, trying to turn me into some kind of fantasy… or quietly hoping I’m a shortcut to something. There’s very little in between.”

Her voice softened. “Sometimes it would be nice to be seen as a person first. Not something to compete with, use, or collect.”

She exhaled, then added lightly, “I really long for real chemistry. Actual closeness. Not just a very reliable battery-powered friend.”

Ellie burst out laughing. There was a brief silence.

“For what it’s worth,” Ellie said, “I dated someone here for a bit.” Sofie paused. “Oh wow.”

“Yeah. Smart. Ambitious. I liked him.” Ellie hesitated, then sighed. “A lot.”

She exhaled. “Then I found out I wasn’t the only one he was dating. I wouldn’t even have minded if he’d told me. But he didn’t.”

She was quiet for a moment before continuing. “Between school and everything else, I don’t think I had the energy he deserved. Maybe he picked up on that.”

Sofie was quiet for a beat. “I’m really sorry, sis. But I don’t think that’s true.”

She continued. “He wasn’t worth you. Just focus on yourself. That’s the only sensible option.”

Her phone vibrated. Then again. Sofie grimaced.

“What?” Ellie asked. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Sofie said lightly. “Just… the usual brand of crazy fans.”

Ellie didn’t laugh. “Sofie.”

Sofie smiled anyway. “It comes with the job. There are always people who think we’re in a relationship. Or that I owe them something.”

“Like what?”

“Attention. Devotion,” Sofie said dryly. “The girlfriend experience, minus my consent.”

Ellie frowned. “That doesn’t sound great.”

“It’s just noise,” Sofie said. “Honestly, I’m more annoyed than scared.”

Ellie hesitated. “You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Sofie said, and meant it.

They said goodbye a few minutes later, Sofie promising to visit London soon.

She paid, packed her bag, and stepped back outside.

The sun was still shining. The waterfront glittered as she walked toward home, light dancing across the surface like nothing in the world could touch it.

She decided the weather was too beautiful to waste.

Running always helped - cleared her head, burned off the static. Once home she quickly changed into a matching set of blue shorts and a tank top, a pink sports bra peeking out beneath.

The wind off the water was lukewarm as she jogged along the waterfront and over the bridge toward Djurgården, her playlist pulsing steadily in her ears. For a moment the unease faded.

She was completely unaware of the man sitting on the bench across from her building.

Baseball cap low.

Black hood pulled over it.

Eyes fixed on her as she disappeared down the street.