Emma (Cupid)

The hallway was quiet, the kind of hush that only a house late in the afternoon can hold—soft hum of the refrigerator, a distant car idling on the street, the occasional rustle of wind against the curtains. In the bedroom, Emma lay propped against the headboard, a half‑finished novel splayed open on her chest, the pages rustling like a gentle sigh.She’d spent the last hour arranging the small things that made the room feel like a promise. When the faint click of the lock turning reached her ears, her pulse quickened. She placed a hand over the novel, as if anchoring herself to the moment. The hallway light flickered on, spilling a thin line of brightness down the corridor. A silhouette appeared in the doorway—tall, familiar, and a little out of breath from the walk through the rain‑slick streets.