Later that evening, Andrian returned to the apartment, feeling an odd sense of relief when he noticed the soft glow of light spilling out from the kitchen. Emily was home. Though he hadn’t seen her yet, he could sense her presence.

The faint clinking of utensils echoed in the quiet apartment, and when he peeked into the kitchen, there she was—wrapped snugly in an apron, her hair tied up in a slightly messy bun, with a few wispy strands falling adorably on her forehead. She stood at the ...