COLD FEET, WARM HEART

Emma stared at the email, her finger hovering over the mouse, her entire body buzzing with exhaustion. The subject line—Final Wedding Arrangements—glared back at her, demanding attention she could no longer muster. She closed her laptop with a snap, letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. It felt like everything in her life was closing in on her—her career, her fiancé, her entire future, mapped out in tidy, suffocating boxes.

She stood from her desk, glancing out the window of her sleek, modern apartment in the city. The skyline glittered with all the promise and success she'd once craved, but now, it only reminded her of how small she felt in a life that was supposed to be hers.

Paul. The thought of him sent a flicker of guilt through her. Paul was perfect on paper—successful, ambitious, handsome. OMG, so handsome. They'd been the power couple everyone expected to get engaged, and when he'd proposed at the chic rooftop restaurant downtown, everyone had cheered. But now, as the wedding drew closer, Emma couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Their conversations were practical, their plans precise. The spark, the passion, the easy laughter—they had faded somewhere along the way. She knew it was unfair of her to think of herself as being just another of Paul's business partners, but it sure was feeling like it these days.

Emma's phone buzzed on the counter, and she saw Paul's name flash on the screen. A quick text: Let's finalize the menu tonight. We need to confirm with the caterer by tomorrow. One more stage in a process, another box to check.

She let out a long sigh, feeling the pressure building. The wedding, the move—Paul had mentioned a promotion that would take them abroad, another glamorous step in their perfect life together. But he hadn't asked her if that was what she wanted. He just assumed she'd say yes.

She couldn't talk to him. Not right now with these hot feelings.

Her eyes drifted to the small suitcase in the corner, the one she hadn't used in months. An idea sparked, reckless but liberating. She wasn't running away ... not exactly ... She just needed space—some time to think. A weekend. That's all. She'd call it a breather.

Before she could second-guess herself, Emma grabbed the suitcase and began tossing clothes inside. Just the essentials. A pair of jeans, a cozy sweater, something comfortable. She was going home—not to the city, not to Paul's world, but to the small, coastal town where she'd grown up. It had been years since she'd been back, and yet the thought of it—the quiet streets, the smell of saltwater, the familiarity—felt like a lifeline.

She texted Paul a quick, vague message: Taking a little trip this weekend to clear my head. We'll talk when I get back.

The drive was long, but it was just what she needed. Mile after mile, the city fell away, replaced by winding roads and open, blue skies. The tension in her shoulders began to ease, the tightness in her chest loosening with every mile. She turned on the radio, humming along to songs she hadn't heard in years. The nostalgia was comforting, like slipping into an old sweater.

As the sign for her hometown finally appeared, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in a long time—relief. She drove past familiar streets, the small grocery store where her mom used to shop, the diner that still had the best pie around. It was quiet, and peaceful, and just as she remembered.

Emma pulled up to the small inn where she'd be staying, a charming place with a wraparound porch and flower boxes in every window. She took a deep breath as she stepped out of the car, feeling the crisp air fill her lungs. This was it—her escape. A weekend to clear her head, figure things out, and maybe, just maybe, remember what she really wanted.

She had no idea that her past was about to collide with her present in the most unexpected way.

Emma checked into the small inn, charmed by its quaint, homey atmosphere. The woman at the front desk, an older lady with a kind smile, handed her the keys and gave her a knowing look. "You'll feel better after some time here, dear," she said softly, as if she understood why Emma had come.