I hung my jacket and scarf carefully by the door, trying to compose myself, but my breath came out shaky, betraying the effort. The sight of her had been enough to set my pulse racing. She looked so homey—effortlessly cozy, exactly like what I imagined a woman should look like on a quiet day off. As usual, Em managed to embody pure perfection without even trying.
Loosening my shoelaces, I stole another glance at her. She was moving the table from her reading chair to the space between the chair and her bed, her movements unhurried but deliberate. Her dark red and black checkered pajama pants hugged her perfectly, especially as she bent down to adjust the table’s placement. The fabric stretched just enough to draw my eyes, and the oversized shirt she wore billowed slightly with the movemen
