EMMA'S POV
The silence between Emma and Adrian wasn't loud… yet it felt heavy enough to press against the walls of the room. The night outside was calm, washed in silver moonlight, but inside, everything felt sharp-edged—too bright where it should have been soft, too quiet where it should have been warm.
Emma stood by the window, arms folded but not in anger. It was more like she was holding herself together, keeping her own pieces from scattering. Adrian stood near the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets, as if he wasn't sure what to do with them… or himself. They had been like this for five whole minutes, unmoving, both aware that something needed to be said—something big—yet neither wanting to be the first to break the barrier.
"Are you really not going to say anything?" Emma finally asked, not turning around.
Adrian exhaled sharply, not in frustration but in exhaustion.
"I'm trying to find the right words. That's the problem."
