Chapter 24: Heart to Heart

The drive is short, but the silence makes it feel endless.

Emma is behind the wheel, eyes locked on the road. And me? I just sit there, hands clasped over my knees, frozen—like moving might somehow make the tension between us even worse.

I steal a glance at her, but her face gives nothing away. No emotion, no hint of what she’s thinking or feeling. The road stretches ahead, and every passing minute feels like torture.

When we reach the café in the city center, Emma parks without a word. She gets out quickly, not even waiting for me to follow. I hurry after her, my stomach in knots, and we step inside.

It’s a small, cozy place, with dim lighting that makes it feel warm and inviting. To everyone except us.

Emma picks a table at the back, far from the other customers, and sits down without so much as a glance in my direction. I take the seat across from her, my heart pounding, still unable to break the suffocating silence.

A waitress approaches with a bright, welcoming smile.

Waitress: “Hi! What can I get you?”

Emma: “An espresso.” Me: “Same.” She jots it down, then pauses, her smile turning playful.

Waitress: “You two are cute together.” The comment hits me like a punch to the gut.

Me: “Uh, she’s my sister.” The waitress flinches slightly, embarrassed, and quickly mutters an apology before hurrying away. I glance at Emma, searching for a reaction, but she remains unreadable.

Me: “Sorry ... I...” I trail off, unable to find the right words. Emma says nothing, her face as closed off as ever.

The drinks arrive a few minutes later. In the meantime, the silence settles in again—heavy, almost unbearable. I stare at my coffee, fingers clenched around the cup.

Me: “Listen, Emma ... I...” I stumble over my words, trying to say something—anything—but my voice fades into nothing.

She’s the one who finally breaks the silence.

Emma: “I read your letter.” Her voice is hesitant, like she’s still searching for the right words.

Emma: “I understand things better now. Well ... some things. I mean, it’s a relief to know you didn’t know from the start. That it only happened ... after I showed you my face.” She stops, staring into her coffee cup, as if hoping to find an answer there.

Emma: “But it’s hard, Brice. It’s strange. I feel ashamed. And at the same time...” She pauses, taking a deep breath.

Emma: “My heart is broken. Over a love that should have never existed.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel my whole body tense up.

Me: “Emma, I ... I’m sorry.” She lifts a hand to stop me, shaking her head gently.

Emma: “Let me finish.” I fall silent, my throat tight, and she continues.

Emma: “Through our conversations, I showed you ... so much. Too much. My body, my fantasies ... things my brother should never know. And now, I don’t know how to handle that. I don’t know how to ... move forward.” Her voice trembles slightly, yet she stays surprisingly firm.

Emma: “And you ... that night, you knew, didn’t you? And yet, you played along. You answered me. You even told me your own fantasies. Why? Why didn’t you shut it down immediately?”

A cold sweat trickles down my neck.

Me: “I ... I didn’t want to hurt you, Emma. I wanted you to feel comfortable. So I ... I said things to reassure you.” She narrows her eyes, studying my face.

Emma: “Hmmm.” That single sound is heavy with doubt. She doesn’t believe me.

Emma: “Then why did you stay up so late ... just to pretend?” I scramble for an answer, anything, but my words trip over themselves.

Me: “I ... I just wanted to be there for you, that’s all.”

Emma: “Hmmmm...” Her gaze drifts away from mine, another hmm slipping from her lips—even more skeptical than the last.

The conversation continues, and with every answer I give, I feel her pulling further away. She doesn’t say it outright, but I can see it in her eyes—she doesn’t fully believe me.

Emma: “At some point, you knew as well as I did that what we had ... virtually ... was more than just friendship. Didn’t you?” I shake my head, trying to shut this down.

Me: “Emma, don’t dwell on that. It wasn’t ... I mean, it wasn’t like that for me.”

Emma: “And the photos, Brice? The ones ... you sent...?”

My face burns instantly, and I look away.

Me: “Forget it, Emma ... Seriously.” She blushes too, lowering her gaze. Her fingers trace the edge of her cup, fidgeting.

Emma: “I did way worse...” Her voice is calmer now, almost nonchalant, and a shiver runs through me. Something has shifted. She seems more at ease, like the weight of this conversation isn’t crushing her anymore.

I take a deep breath, trying to regain control of the situation.

Me: “We should try to forget all of this, Emma. For us. So we can move on.” She doesn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifts over the table, then to her cup, like she’s avoiding my eyes. Her silence throws me off. I just handed her a way out, a solution on a silver platter, and she says nothing?

I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

Me: “Emma?” She flinches slightly, finally looking up at me.