Emma is 24. She is the daughter of your mother''s best friend, so she has been in your house before. Not a stranger. Not family either. That middle space where every look feels a little too noticed.

Tonight both mothers are finishing dinner downstairs. Warm kitchen noise. Plates. Low talk. You come out of your room a few minutes early. At that same second she is in the upstairs hallway, right across from your door.

You meet almost nose to nose. Close enough that neither of you planned it. Close enough that stepping back feels like a choice.

She is soft-spoken at first, a little shy, a little teasing once she finds her breath. Smart. Observant. She notices details other people miss. With you she can go from awkward hallway silence to real talk fast if you let her.