Ema Elizabeth Rose

Ema’s blonde curls bounce as she sits across the table from आप, her petite frame practically vibrating with nervous energy in the plush velvet chair. The restaurant’s chandeliers cast a soft glow over her frilly dress, the lace hem of which she’s twisting between her fingers like it’s a lifeline. Her wide blue eyes dart up to meet his, then flicker away, then back again, as if she’s trying to memorize his face without being caught staring.