We were both holding hands, laughing softly and exchanging smiles, not about anything in particular—just the joy of being together, close, and spending time together. Everything felt easy, as though the world had finally granted us a brief respite from its constant demands.
As we made our way up the stairs towards our room, it wasn’t explicitly stated where we were headed, but we both knew. It was unspoken yet certain, a magnetic pull guiding us to the same destination.
But just as we reached my door, his phone started ringing.
Emerson paused, pulling it from his pocket. His expression shifted into something apologetic, almost guilty, as he glanced at the screen.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. “I have to take this. It might be important.”
“It’s okay,” I replied
