Emma’s Point Of View
The café was alive with its usual hum of chatter and clinking coffee cups. The smell of freshly brewed coffee swirled in the air, blending with the sweetness of pastries fresh out of the oven. It was the kind of setting I once found comforting, but now, it was merely a distraction from the chaos in my mind. I have been working here for almost a month now, I was carrying a tray to a customer when Sarah, one of my colleagues, rushed toward me, untying her apron.
"Emma, could you fill in for me? I have an emergency," she said hurriedly.
“Of course,” I replied, giving her a tight smile. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.
Sliding into her role, I carried out a plate of pastries and a steaming cup of coffee, placing it in front of one of our regulars. He gave me
