EMMA
I didn’t know what I expected when Gabriel told me he wanted to “show me something,” but it definitely wasn’t this.
A workshop.
A fully furnished, gleaming, sunlit workshop.
My feet froze at the doorway, heart thudding so loud I worried he could hear it. The studio looked nothing like the old storage closet it must’ve once been. The space was wide and open, with polished floors that glowed honey-gold under soft ceiling lights. Long tables stretched across the room like an artist’s dream,clean, sturdy, ready to hold whatever chaos I created. Shelves lined the walls, neatly stocked with supplies: ribbons, fabrics, glittering ornaments, floral wire, organizing bins, cutting mats.
There was even a small heater in the corner, humming gently, warming the crisp air.
The room felt like
