Emily
When Adrian asked to meet, my first instinct was to refuse.
Actually, that wasn't entirely true.
My first instinct had been to stare at the message for a very long time, my chest tightening with a familiar ache I had worked so hard to suppress these past days.
The second instinct had been to refuse.
But the message hadn’t been personal.
It had been… formal.
So now I sat across from him in a quiet café, my fingers wrapped around a cup of tea that had long gone cold.
Adrian looked exactly the same.
Perfectly composed.
Perfectly controlled.
But I knew him well enough to notice the subtle differences.
The faint shadows under his eyes.
The tension in his jaw.
The way his gaze lingered on me for half a second longer than necessary before he looked away.
Neither of us spoke f
