Emma Caldwell simply wished for an uncomplicated life.
To graduate with honors, secure a job straight out of college, marry a generous man, and create a family that her late parents would have adored.
However, life, as she understood, never quite went according to plan.
As she exited her final class of the day, the city was bustling with activity. Her backpack, full of textbooks, felt heavier than usual and accompanied with thoughts of multiple assignments due, bills, her grandmother's medication, and rent felt overwhelming. Everything looked too much like one of those "Holding too much sand in the palm of your hand," scenarios.
Emma sighed, her slow breaths escaping with the weight of her struggles. She pushed a loose curl out of her face and adjusted her bag.
And that was when he appeared.
For the third time that week she spotted him, waiting in the driver seat of an all black car that looked sleek and expensive.
"Oh boy, and here I was hoping you'd have some personal space for the rest of the day," Kate joked as she descended beside Emma, "He almost qualifies as a stalker." Emma's frown deepened. Surely she hadn't looked that way.
She glanced to her peripheral and decided he was indeed eye adopting her. There he was, opposite her standing a few meters away. He was nonchalantly leaning against the hood of the car and yes, arms crossed propped up in proper poster sunny Valentines Day fashion.
"Do you know him?" Kate inquired.
"No."
"Do you want to?"
"...Maybe, " Emma said quietly, almost too softly to be heard.
She glanced back at the stranger. He seemed to be stalking her on some level. Calculated. It was more like he wasn't viewing. He was anticipating. For her.
Emma walked away from him. Walking away and still feeling her heart race was a strange feeling.
The following day, he wasn't positioned across the street.
He was in front of her. He was on campus and it was daytime.
While taking a turn toward the library, she almost bumped into him.
"He said, Hi." Emma thought his voice was too heavy and thick for her liking.
She paused. With a tilt of her head he believed she could examine him further. "Do you typically usher in ladies on their walks outside?" Emma continued.
He offered a small smile. "No. Just one."
"And why's that?"
"Because you're the only one I've wanted to talk to in a long time."
There was a gap of silence in between them. She didn't budge. He didn't either.
"I'm Rayne," he stated, offering his hand.
She chose not to accept it. "What do you want?"
"One conversation. Just coffee. That's all."
"Do I look like someone with time to spare on a random man walking in here out of nowhere?"
"No," he said. "You look like someone who needs a break."
He her lips twitch in the slightest bit of what could be construed as a smile. She was annoyed by how observant he was. Even more so by how annoyingly right he was.
She shouldn't have agreed.
But she did.
It was wedged between a pastry café and a second-hand book store. The coffee shop was small, warm and smelled of cinnamon and quiet hopes.
He asked for black coffee – no cream, no sugar. She requested for milk tea with honey. Smell like cinnamon and quiet hope. Her order earned him a raised eyebrow.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing. Just… fitting."
They found a corner table next to the window. Outside, students ambled past in lazy waves, their jokes and sunlight having merged.
"You don't talk much," he observed as he watched her stir her drink.
"I don't talk to strangers."
"Then let me not be a stranger."
She raised an eyebrow. "Does that line actually work?"
Rayne laughed. "I've never had to try this hard in my life."
She hated how charming his smile was.
He leaned in slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "So. Alisha. Tell me something real."
"Like what?"
"Anything. No filters."
She looked at him for a long time. Then:
"I'm tired," she said. "I have two part-time jobs, I'm a full-time student, and I take care of my grandma who forgets more than she remembers. My parents died in a car accident when I was eleven, which is like ages ago and I still don't sleep without having nightmare. And I don't like people who think they know me because of what I look like."
Rayne blinked, surprised. Then, he smiled. "You said 'real.' I didn't think it would be that real."
"You asked."
He nodded. "Fair."
"And you?" she asked. "What's your version of real?"
"I run my family's company," he said. "Well, I try to run it. Some days it feels like it runs me more."
"What company?"
"Walker Luxe Group."
She blinked. "As in... the Wlaker's?"
He nodded.
Her throat felt tight. She felt so small in the room.
The Walker's family was well-known for their power—affluence, achievement, and controversy. Their name appeared continuously in the media and on buildings around town.
She gazed at him, her heart pounding. "What brings you here?"
"Because I noticed you and couldn't shake you from my mind," he replied straightforwardly. "I don't have any expectations from you, Emma. That's the reason for my presence."
He pulled a small black notebook from his coat pocket and set it down on the table.
"I penned something on the first day our paths crossed," he mentioned. "Feel free to read it or not."
Emma looked at the notebook before turning her gaze back to him.
Her heart urged her forward.
Her mind protested fiercely.
In silence, she decided nothing, slipped the notebook into her bag, and rose to leave.
"I need to go now."
"Will we meet again?" he asked as he remained seated.
She didn't respond.
Later that night, after her grandmother had retired for the evening, Emma found herself perched on the edge of her bed with that little black notebook resting in her lap.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
>
I saw a girl today.
She walked like she had somewhere to go, and laughed like the world hadn't broken her yet.
I don't know her name. But I can't stop thinking about her.
She pressed the notebook to her chest, her eyes stinging.
Why her?
Why now?
Two days passed.
She didn't call. Didn't text. But she thought of him more than she wanted to admit. Each time her phone buzzed, her breath caught. But it was never him.
Until it was.
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
She hesitated.
And picked up.
"Emma?"
His voice was calm, confident, a little unsure.
"You gave me your number," she said.
"I thought you might use it."
"Why?"
"Because you're the first person who looked at me like I was just a man. Not a name. Not a headline."
The silence stretched like a piece of thread in between them.
"I don't do casual," she said.
"Good." he replied. "Neither do I."
A pause.
"One more time. Just let me see you again," Rayne said. "No pressure. No expectations. Just... a walk. A talk."
She closed her eyes. Her heart was racing again, reckless and wild.
"Okay," she whispered.