Chapter 112

Abigail’s footsteps quickened the whole way back, her phone clutched tight in her hand like it might finally buzz if she held it hard enough. She barely noticed the passing faces on campus, the voices, the traffic on the street. By the time she reached her building, her chest was tight with worry, her breaths short and uneven.

She slipped inside the lobby and pressed the elevator button with jittery fingers, shifting her weight from foot to foot as if the impatience alone could make it arrive faster. When the doors slid open, she darted inside and hit her floor, staring at the glowing number as it crept upward. Each ding made her heart beat harder.

When the elevator finally opened, she bolted out, nearly tripping over her own feet as she sprinted down the hall. She fumbled with her keys, dropped them once, muttered under her breath, then managed to unlock the door and shove it open.

“Emma?” Abigail called, her voice a mix of breathlessness and fear.

Silence.

She kicked her shoes off without thinking and moved quickly through the entryway. “Emma!” she called again, louder this time, her voice echoing faintly against the quiet walls. The apartment felt still—too still.

Her stomach twisted as she hurried down the short hallway and into the living room. And then she stopped.

There, on the couch, Emma was curled up beneath a blanket, her head resting against the armrest, her body rising and falling with the rhythm of deep sleep. A half-empty mug sat on the coffee table beside her phone, screen dark and untouched.

Abigail froze in the doorway, her chest heaving. Relief crashed over her so suddenly it made her weak in the knees. She leaned a hand against the wall, exhaling a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her heart still raced, but now for a different reason—because Emma was okay. Because she was safe.

The sight of her, so peaceful and unaware, softened everything inside Abigail. She stepped quietly into the room, her sneakers barely making a sound on the floor. For a moment, she just stood there, watching Emma’s chest rise and fall, letting the tension drain from her shoulders.

Finally, Abigail whispered into the stillness, almost too softly to hear: “Thank God.”

Abigail stayed there for a long moment, just watching Emma breathe, her own pulse slowly finding its rhythm again. The sight of her chest rising and falling, the faint sound of her breathing—it was the most reassuring thing Abigail had seen all day. Her eyes traced the curve of Emma’s face, the way a soft strand of hair had slipped across her forehead.

The blanket had slid halfway down Emma’s shoulder. Abigail stepped closer, careful not to wake her, and gently tugged the blanket back up, tucking it snugly under her chin. Her fingertips brushed against the warmth of Emma’s skin, and she froze, her heart catching at the simple closeness.

She stayed crouched beside the couch, drinking in the moment. All that rushing through campus, the elevator that felt too slow, the silence of unanswered texts—it all melted away. Relief filled her so deeply it almost ached. She couldn’t hold it in; she had to touch her.

Abigail reached out, brushing a stray curl back from Emma’s face, her thumb lingering lightly against her temple. Emma’s skin was soft, her lips slightly parted in sleep. Abigail leaned down, her breath catching just before she closed the space between them, and pressed a tender kiss against Emma’s lips.

The kiss was feather-light at first, careful, reverent. Then Abigail pulled back just enough to watch Emma stir. Her lashes fluttered, her brow furrowed faintly, and then her eyes blinked open, slow and hazy.

For a moment Emma looked disoriented, caught between dreams and waking. But when her gaze found Abigail kneeling beside her, the faintest smile tugged at her mouth, warm and familiar.

“Hey, baby,” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep, still edged with drowsy sweetness. “How was class?”

Abigail’s chest loosened with a small, shaky laugh. She cupped Emma’s cheek, her thumb stroking along her jaw. “Better now,” she murmured, her own smile soft and unguarded.

Emma leaned into Abigail’s touch, still wearing that sleepy smile. Abigail shifted onto the edge of the couch beside her, brushing her thumb across Emma’s cheek once more before speaking softly.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice gentle but laced with worry. “You didn’t answer any of my texts—I was starting to freak out.”

Emma let out a small yawn and stretched under the blanket, her eyes fluttering open a little wider. “Sorry, baby. I was so tired, I must’ve knocked out as soon as I sat down.” She gave a weak laugh. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Abigail exhaled slowly, the tension easing from her shoulders now that she could hear Emma’s voice. “It’s okay. Just…don’t do that to me again,” she said with a half-smile, leaning forward to kiss Emma’s forehead. “I was this close to having a meltdown.”

Emma chuckled softly, then closed her eyes again, settling deeper into the cushions.

Abigail studied her for a moment, then smoothed the blanket over her lap. “Are you hungry at all? Do you want me to grab you something? Soup, a sandwich…anything?”

Emma’s lashes lifted lazily, her gaze soft. “Mmm… maybe later,” she murmured. “Right now, I just want you here.”

Abigail’s heart swelled at the words. She nodded and tucked herself closer, letting Emma rest her head against her shoulder. “Then here’s exactly where I’ll be.”

Without hesitation, she slipped off her bag and set it on the floor, then eased herself down onto the couch. Emma shifted just enough to make space, and Abigail tucked herself in beside her, wrapping an arm gently around her waist.

The blanket rustled as Abigail pulled it over both of them, cocooning them together. Emma sighed contentedly and nestled her face against Abigail’s chest, her breath warm against her shirt. Abigail held her close, resting her chin on top of Emma’s head, her fingers absently tracing soothing circles along Emma’s arm.

For the first time all day, Abigail’s chest loosened completely. The frantic rush, the unanswered texts, the storm of worry—all of it faded into the quiet comfort of holding her.

“You scared me,” Abigail whispered, her voice muffled against Emma’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Emma mumbled sleepily, tightening her hold around Abigail’s middle. “Didn’t mean to.”

Abigail kissed the crown of her head, her lips lingering there as she breathed her in. “It’s okay,” she whispered back. “Just don’t disappear on me like that again, okay?”

Emma only hummed softly in response, already drifting back toward sleep, safe in Abigail’s arms.

Abigail tightened her embrace and let her own eyes close, finally allowing herself to breathe, wrapped in the steady rhythm of Emma’s heartbeat against her.