Emma's POV
I struggled to open my eyes, and there, inches from me was Chase's face. His chiseled features looked unusually gentle under the dim light.
"Chase..." I whispered his name, and just like that, the tears I’d been holding back flooded out.
"He... how could he do this to me?" The words came out broken, as the full weight of everything hit me all at once.
Chase didn’t say anything. He just wrapped his arm around me, gently patting my back, like he was trying to comfort a child.
I leaned into him, crying in a way I hadn’t in years, letting go of all the hurt and frustration I’d been bottling up for the past seven years.
Chase didn’t rush me. He just quietly led me away from the noisy bar, his presence a steady anchor as we stepped into the cool night air. The breeze on my face helped clear my mind, just a little.
"Emma, let me take you home." His voice was soft, almost tentative like he didn’t want to disturb me more than I already was.
I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to go back... it’s all his memories there..."
Chase was silent for a beat, then he spoke again, his tone gentle but firm. "Come to my place. I’ll make you some hangover soup."