Emma’s Point of View
Breakfast started with Adrian trying to ease me into comfort, like a man attempting to coax a startled cat out of hiding. He served my coffee just the way I liked it, offered me a plate of scrambled eggs, and shared lighthearted stories from his rebellious college days. His voice was soft, his demeanor warm, but my mind was elsewhere, tangled in a web of nerves I couldn’t seem to shake off.
“Emma,” he said with a slight chuckle, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Are you even listening?”
“Hmm?” I snapped out of my daze, forcing a weak smile. “Sorry, I was just... thinking about work and how people are viewing me now.”
His brow furrowed, and his gaze bore into me like he could see right through the facade. “We’ve already talked about this, remembe
