The morning sun filtered through pale curtains, casting a gentle glow on the couch where Emily had spent another restless night. Her phone rested on the coffee table, the message from the unknown number still unread again but very much imprinted in her mind.
“Meet me tomorrow at 6 PM. Briarwood Park. Near the old greenhouse.”
She hadn’t stopped thinking about it all night. She barely slept, torn between anxiety and a faint, foolish hope.
Briarwood Park.
It wasn’t just a random meeting spot—it was sacred. Quiet. Private. Her and Oliver’s place, when they were just friends, sneaking away to talk about life, dreams, and heartbreaks. If someone chose that location, it had to mean something personal.
And who else could it be?
Emily sat up slowly, her hair tangled from sleep, and picked up
