Morning light crept reluctantly through Emma’s curtains, pale and distant after the night’s storm. The city outside still glistened from the rain, the sky washed clean but dull.
She hadn’t slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him — the way his voice had gone rough when he said her name, the feel of his hand against her skin, the way the world seemed to hold its breath before the lights came back on.
And then — nothing.
He’d said her name again, softer this time. She’d left. And he hadn’t stopped her.
Emma sat up slowly, running a hand through her tangled hair. Her chest still ached, heavy with something she couldn’t name — not quite regret, not quite longing. Just… confusion.
By the time she reached the office, she had buried every trace of that confusion under neat pro
