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“I want to build something lasting with you,” Emma confesses. “Not just code, but a legacy. Something that makes the world a little better. A family filled with love, not like my own.” She takes a deep breath. “You want to know why I don’t speak to my father anymore?”
She continues, her voice barely above a whisper, “When I was fifteen, I ran away from home. It was the hardest decision of my life, but I felt like I had no choice.”
She pauses, gathering her thoughts. “My mother died of ovarian cancer when I was just eight. She was the heart of our family, and after she was gone, everything changed.”
She looks out at the sea, her eyes reflecting the turmoil inside. “My father... he couldn’t handle the grief. He turned to gambling, hoping to drown his sorrows in one big win.
“Our home became a place of constant tension, arguments about money filled the air where laughter used to be. He blamed me, said they were happy until I came along.
“He’d get drunk and lash out. I learned to avoid the house when he was like that. I hid in the library, found my first computer coding book there.”
He reaches across the table, offering his hand, an anchor in her storm of memories.
Emma takes my hand and squeezes it, grateful for the support. “School wasn’t any escape either. I was bullied for being the quiet girl with the dead mom.
“The one who liked computer coding more than gossiping or makeup. I felt so alone. My passion for coding became my refuge, but it also made me a target.”
Her voice cracks, but she pushes on, determined to share her story. “On my 15th birthday, a few people had given me money as gifts. It vanished overnight. I confronted my dad but he started berating me about my ‘impractical’ dreams of ’a man’s career.’
“Said I’d never make it and was wasting my time. Wouldn’t amount to anything. Smashed up the computer school had lent me. Gave me this scar.”
She moves her hair, showing me an ugly line across her scalp. “Threw the bottle he’d been drinking at me. I left the same night. Never went back.”
She looks into my eyes, her own brimming with tears. “I’ve not spoken to him since. That’s why I was so angry when you said you’d spoken to him. The man’s an asshole. I don’t want a family like that. I want one filled with love, not bitterness.”
I listen, my heart aching for the young girl who faced the world alone, for the woman in front of me who turned her pain into strength. “Emma, you’re the strongest person I ever met. And you fixed the hotel’s booking system so what does he know?”
She manages a laugh. “I guess you’re right.”
The candles burn low, our plates empty, but we linger, lost in conversation and the warmth of shared dreams. Eventually, we stand, walking hand in hand along the water’s edge.
The moonlight bathes us in silver, and I pull Emma close, her head resting against my shoulder. “Tonight was perfect,” she murmurs. “Never told anyone why I ran away.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. All your secrets.”
We sit watching the waves. “Adrian?” she whispers.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for this. I never thought I could be this relaxed. Ever.”
I tighten my hold on her. “That means you’ll leave your laptop in the suite from now on?”
“Don’t go crazy. I’m not a bum.”
“Maybe not but you’ve got a fucking hot butt.”
“Actually, it’s getting cold. Can we go back inside now?”
“Whatever my wife wants, she gets.”
13
ADRIAN
Four weeks later…
I find myself lingering outside Emma’s workspace, the hum of focused activity within drawing me closer.
