Emma's Pov
The café was too warm.
Or maybe it was just me, my pulse, my nerves, my thoughts running wild in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. The sun was barely up, the Monday rush hadn't begun, and still my chest felt tight, like the city was pressing its weight directly against my ribs.
I'd walked here without thinking, legs moving on instinct, searching for somewhere to breathe after leaving Damian's office in whatever state that was—shaken, angry, terrified, hopeful, all tangled into a knot I couldn't untie.
I ordered tea I knew I wouldn't finish and sat in the corner, trying to calm the tremble in my fingers. I shouldn't have gone to him. I also shouldn't have said half the things I said and he definitely shouldn't have said what he said.
I can't promise that.
