Chapter 3 — Emily’s Curiosity

Lola

“So, let me get this straight,” Emily said, her fork poised midair over a mountain of syrup-soaked waffles, her curls bouncing with each exaggerated word. “A ridiculously gorgeous guy just popped out of nowhere, dropped some cryptic one-liner about being your future husband, handed you a magical locket, and then vanished? Like—poof?” She twirled her free hand dramatically, her bracelets jangling like tiny bells.

I sighed and slouched deeper into the worn café booth. The Coffeehouse on Green Street hummed with its usual chaos: the hiss of the espresso machine mingling with the soft strum of an acoustic guitar, and the steady murmur of overlapping conversations. Normally, I liked the place for its cozy familiarity, but today it felt a little too loud, a little too bright. Emily had insisted we meet for breakfast, claiming I looked “way too broody for a Saturday morning,” and I’d reluctantly agreed. Now I was questioning that decision.

“Not exactly ‘poof,’” I muttered, pushing the remnants of my scrambled eggs around my plate. “He walked away. Like a normal person. Or, you know, as normal as someone can be when they’re claiming to be… whatever he’s claiming to be.”

Emily’s eyes lit up with glee, and she leaned in as though I’d just confessed to meeting a celebrity. “And you didn’t immediately swoon or kiss him or—wait!” She gasped, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you kiss him?”

“What? No!” I hissed, my cheeks flaming as I glanced around the café. A couple of students at the next table looked up briefly before returning to their laptops. I lowered my voice, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I don’t even know him, Em. For all I know, he could be some kind of… I don’t know. A con artist.”

“A con artist?” Emily raised her eyebrows, leaning back with a theatrical sigh. “Lola, he gave you a locket. Not a pyramid scheme pitch. Honestly, if some otherworldly hottie showed up claiming I was the love of his life, I’d at least hear him out. Maybe take him for a spin.” She winked. “You know, for science.”

Despite myself, her teasing almost coaxed a smile out of me. Almost. “This isn’t a rom-com,” I said, trying for a tone of finality. “This is real life. People don’t just… appear out of nowhere and start talking about magic and the future.”

“But what if they did?” Emily’s grin softened into something more thoughtful as she prodded a piece of waffle with her fork. “I mean, what if he’s telling the truth? What if this is, like, destiny or something?”

Destiny. The word settled heavily in my chest, uninvited and uncomfortably familiar. Against my better judgment, my fingers moved to my pocket. I pulled out the locket and let it dangle from its delicate chain. The silver caught the sunlight streaming through the café window, its intricate swirls and starburst design shimmering faintly. It was undeniably beautiful, and yet its presence made my chest tighten.

“I don’t know if I believe in that kind of thing,” I admitted, barely above a whisper. The locket seemed to hum faintly against my palm—or maybe it was just my imagination. Either way, I quickly closed my fingers around it, as though hiding it could somehow quiet the storm in my mind.

Emily set her fork down and reached across the table, lightly brushing her fingers against mine. The warmth of her touch startled me, and for a moment, I wanted to pull away. But I didn’t. “Maybe you don’t have to believe in destiny,” she said with quiet conviction. “Maybe it’s enough to believe in yourself.”

Her words landed with a weight I wasn’t prepared for, stirring something deep and vulnerable that I usually kept buried. I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around the locket as my thoughts churned. Believe in myself. The idea felt as distant and intangible as everything else about this situation.

“I’ll try,” I murmured, though the words felt hollow. Emily’s hand lingered for a moment longer before she pulled it back, her bracelets jingling softly.

“Well,” she said, her usual brightness returning as she took another bite of her waffles, “if you’re not going to fall head over heels for Mr. Magic, at least promise you’ll introduce me to him. I’d be happy to take him off your hands.”

I laughed softly despite myself. “I think he’s a little too intense for you, Em.”

“Ugh, probably.” She wrinkled her nose, then wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. “Speaking of intense… how’s Zander? Still hopelessly in love with you?”

My fork clattered against my plate as her words hit me like a sharp breeze. “What? He’s not—”

“Please,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand. “He’s been mooning over you since forever. Seriously, everyone can see it except you.”

“That’s not true,” I said firmly, but the words felt hollow. My mind flickered with memories of Zander—his easy smile, the way his hand would linger on my shoulder just a second too long, the quiet intensity in his eyes whenever he thought I wasn’t looking. No. That couldn’t mean… Could it?

Emily tilted her head, watching me with a knowing smirk that made me squirm. “If you say so. But seriously, are you going to tell him about Jax?”

The question yanked me out of my spiraling thoughts. I hesitated, glancing down at the locket still clenched in my hand. The idea of telling Zander about Jax felt… messy. Zander’s always been my anchor, the steadying force in my otherwise chaotic life. But this—this was different. Jax wasn’t something he could fix with a joke or a quiet reassurance. And I wasn’t sure how he’d react.

“I don’t know,” I admitted finally, my voice barely audible over the hum of the coffeehouse. “I don’t even know how to explain it. He’d think I’m crazy.”

Emily leaned back, her expression softening. “Zander doesn’t think you’re crazy. He thinks you’re brilliant. And honestly? I think he’d want to know. Even if it’s just so he can glare at Jax and do that macho protective thing he does.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips. Zander’s protective streak—part endearing, part maddening—was one of the reasons I valued our friendship so much. Still, the thought of dragging him into this strange, tangled mess felt like stepping onto thin ice.

“Maybe,” I said, slipping the locket back into my pocket. “But not yet.”

Emily studied me for a long moment, her gaze uncharacteristically serious. Then, with a small nod, she picked up her fork and grinned mischievously. “Okay. But if you start glowing or levitating or anything, you have to tell me. Deal?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Deal.”

“To magic and mysterious future husbands!” she declared, holding up her fork in a mock toast.

I rolled my eyes, raising my coffee mug. “To waffles.”

“To waffles,” she agreed, clinking her fork against my mug.

For the first time since Jax’s inexplicable arrival, I felt a flicker of normalcy—a brief, quiet reprieve from the questions and doubts swirling in my mind. But as Emily launched into a hilarious story about her latest misadventures in art class, the weight of the locket in my pocket was impossible to ignore.

And somewhere, deep inside, a quiet voice whispered that this was only the beginning.