The midday hum of the office canteen buzzed with conversation and clinking cutlery, an ordinary backdrop to an extraordinary moment. Emma’s pulse thundered in her ears as she turned away from Jonathan, her tray trembling slightly in her hands. The air was too thick too full of unspoken things. She could feel him behind her, the weight of his presence like gravity pulling at her resolve.
“Emma,” his voice came low and urgent, threading through the noise and straight into her chest.
She quickened her pace, weaving past tables and colleagues, hoping to slip away before her expression gave her away but it was too late. His hand caught hers in a gentle but unwavering grip.
“Why are you running away from me?” Jonathan’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. The room’s background chatter faltered, just enough for nearby heads to turn, eyes flickering between them. He stood tall, his suit immaculate, but his gaze was raw unfiltered vulnerability hiding behind the polished exterior.