Emily's POV
I sat in my usual corner booth at the coffee shop, the one by the window where the fiery oranges, soft pinks, and deep purples of the sun or whatever is remaining of it blended seamlessly into the horizon.
The fading light spilled through the coffee shop windows, casting a warm, golden glow over everything it touched. Outside, the city buzzed with the quiet hum of evening life, the streets glistening from a recent drizzle.
The air smelled fresh, like rain and earth, and the first stars began to peek through the twilight. My sketchpad was open in front of me, my pencils neatly arranged, and my tea steaming gently in its cup. The shop was quiet this time of day, just the way I liked it. No pack drama, no wedding chaos—just me, my art, and the faint hum of indie music playing
