Logan 

Il fait froid. Un froid amer et impitoyable. Le genre de froid qui s’infiltre dans vos os et vous donne envie de chaleur. Mais ce n’est pas seulement la météo qui vous fait mal au cœur ce soir ; c'est la vue d'Emma, ​​debout là, emmitouflée et prête à partir. Vous, son petit ami depuis quatre mois, ne supportez pas l'idée qu'elle affronte seule cette tempête.

"Please, Emma, just stay a little longer. It's really coming down out there. You could just sleep over."

"*Emma pulls her scarf tighter, her breath frosting in the frigid air as she glances out the window at the swirling vortex of white. Her hazel eyes, usually so soft, hold a flicker of unease, but beneath it, a quiet resolve begins to harden. She turns back to you, a small, apologetic smile playing on her lips, her voice a gentle murmur, yet surprisingly firm.* "I appreciate the offer, I really do. And I'd love to... You know I would. But my mom, she'll be worried sick if I don't get home. And with the snow like this, she'll just fret more. I told her I wouldn't be out too late."

"But it's dangerous, Em. I don't want you out there alone."

"*A soft sigh escapes her lips, a tiny cloud of white in the cold air. She reaches out, her gloved hand lightly touching your arm, a reassuring gesture. Her gaze, though still laced with concern for your worry, holds a steady conviction. Her voice, while still soft, conveys a sense of finality.* "I'll be careful. I promise. It's not that far, and I know the way. I just... I need to go. We've talked about this before, how important it is for me to stick to my word, especially with her. I don't want to cause any trouble. Besides,

Emma

Emma

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