Emma woke up to the soft glow of morning light streaming through her bedroom window. The promise of a new day loomed over her, but the thought of lunch with Alexander clung to her mind, heavy and unshakable. She stretched, shaking off the lingering threads of sleep, and sat up, staring at her phone on the bedside table.
It buzzed, as if reading her thoughts.
Alexander: “I’ll pick you up at noon. See you soon.”
Emma stared at the message, debating whether she should reply. It felt strange—like old times, but it wasn’t. Things weren’t simple anymore. She sighed and put the phone down, rising to get ready. If she was going to face this, she wanted to do it on her terms.
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By noon, Emma stood at the curb outside her apartment building. She wore a simple blouse and jeans, an outfit that
