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Emma had always been the kind of girl who turned heads without trying. With golden hair that caught the sunlight like spun silk and eyes as sharp as her wit, she was effortlessly brilliant. She was the girl who sat at the front of the class, aced every test, and still found time to read novels under the cherry tree in the courtyard.
Then there was Ethan. Kind, thoughtful, and maybe a little quiet, he was the type of guy who held doors open and remembered the little things—like how Emma liked her coffee with exactly one sugar cube, no more, no less. Unlike the guys who only admired Emma from afar, Ethan saw something beyond her beauty.
One rainy afternoon, as students rushed through the halls, Ethan found Emma in the library, lost between the pages of a well-worn book. He hesitated, then took a deep breath.
“You always read the endings first, don’t you?” he asked, setting his bag down beside her.
Emma looked up, surprised. “And how would you know that?”
Ethan smiled. “You never read a book unless you know it’s worth your time. You like certainty.”
Her lips curled into a smile. “Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t like surprises.”
He slid a book toward her—one she had been eyeing the other day but never picked up. “Then let me make it easier. I promise this one has a happy ending.”
Emma studied him for a moment, her fingers brushing the cover. “What if I prefer a little mystery?”
Ethan’s grin widened. “Then let’s write one of our own.”
And for the first time, Emma didn’t flip to the last page—because some stories were better left unread until they were lived.
ns 15.158.61.55da2
