Emma's pov
By the time the sun dipped behind the buildings, painting the sky in that moody orange haze, I felt wrung out. The day had stretched itself thin, each session dragging just a little heavier than the last.
I kept hearing Jessy's voice in the back of my head, her fear, her trembling apology, her warning.
He's dangerous when he's spiraling.
I told myself it wasn't my problem. Not anymore. That part of my life was a closed chapter, locked and shelved but the unease clung like static, buzzing under my ribs.
I gathered my things mechanically, slipping my laptop into my bag, shutting off the lamp, checking, twice, that the office window was locked. My routine was supposed to ground me, yet tonight every action felt like a delay. Like I was stalling without meaning to.
