THE WORLD STANDS still as he stands in front of me with tears running down his cheeks. I want to reach out and wipe them away, blending the pain into nothing but numbness, but I can't. He took that away from me. I'm frozen, and it's his fault. And for a small moment, I wish it was yesterday. Before everything changed.

It was easier.

Today is new, and it's harder to ignore the storm we've created. We can't hear each other anymore, not through the cracks of thunder in the air. No matter how loud we scream—it won't change. We're stuck. And my biggest fear is that we can never leave each other.

We are destined for ruins.

"Em!" Maggie shouts through my made-up reality, waving her hand in front of my face until my attention is off the manuscript pages in front of me and on her. "Earth to Emery!"

"What?" I ask with a frown, my fingers curling into the sharp edges of the stacked paper.

"Nice to see you too." She laughs as she leans into the edge of my desk, tucking a piece of her dark—nearly black—shoulder length hair behind her ear. "Put the book down. It's time to get you home," she tells me as a smile creeps up on her pouty pink lips.

"Mags!" I frown. "You can't ask me that! It's so good. I have to finish it."

"Em, you've been in the office since seven," she argues and stands as she pulls on my arm, unsuccessful in her venture to get me off my chair. She does, however, pull it along the hardwood floors of my office and away from my desk. "It's six. I think it's time to call it a day, don't you?"

"How do you even know I was here at seven?" I ask as I pull my arm out of her grasp and fix the sleeve of my black long sleeve turtle neck. The ruffled edges peeking out from under my grey plaid print blazer, the matching pencil skirt creeping up my thighs as I cross my legs. "You don't start until eight-thirty."

"I have eyes and ears all over this office, babe," she tells me. "You can't spend your life in between the pages of a book. It's unhealthy."

I grin up at her. "I can, actually. It's why I became an editor."

"Ha-ha." She rolls her eyes at me and reaches for my hand again. "When was the last time you ate?" she asks.

"I've had my snacks," I tell her, about to lean over my armrest for the bottom drawer of my desk where I keep a stash of snacks. An array of things I shouldn't be eating, but do because I can't help myself and deserve a treat every once in a while. Or always.

"I mean, real food." She shakes her head, her mother bear instinct passed down from her strict Indian mother showing. "Not Oreos and peanut butter."

"That is real food!" I argue before sighing when I realize she won't leave me alone until I leave the publication house—where she works as the office receptionist, and I work as a senior-level editor—with her. "Okay, fine! I will go home."

"Good," she says and extends her hand to help me onto my pointed suede heels. "Or you could come over for dinner so I know you'll actually eat."

"I've still got leftovers from the last time I was over," I assure her. "I'll be fine."

"You sure? Zane's making fajitas," she says, knowing that I can't say no to fajitas. Especially not Zane's.

I smile, pressing my tongue to the back of my teeth. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" I ask as I reach for my purse tucked into the cabinet behind my desk.

"What?" She grins. "Ask my husband to make your favorite to force you to spend more time with me? Me? Do that to you? No, never."

I shake my head at her. "You're very subtle, Mags."

"I know," she says and moves towards my office door. "You coming?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you in the lobby," I tell her and settle back into my office chair as I reach for my computer mouse. "I just have to shut everything down."

"Okay, but if you're not out here in two minutes, I will come and drag you out by your ear." She teases, wagging her finger at me.

"Yeah, yeah!"

Maggie leaves the door open as she leaves me to turn my office down for the night. I shift in my chair and shut down my computer before clipping the manuscript pages back together, tucking them into my bag as I stand. Crossing the room, I grab my coat off the arm of the chair in the corner of my office, pulling the long peacoat on over my blazer. With a quick look around the room, I hook the strap of my bag on my arm and shut my office door with a quiet thud.

Aside from a few stragglers finishing up, the office is bare. It's not unusual for me to be the last one to leave the office at the end of the day and the first one here in the morning. Since the day they gave me the job, I have lived and breathed for it. Some people call it unhealthy, and maybe it is, but I can't stop myself from wanting to be here. I have spent my whole life high on books, and getting to be around them and their creators, the first person to read and explore a story, has been a dream come true.

It's the only thing I've ever wanted to do.

Growing up in the suburbs of New York, I didn't have much to entertain myself with and the pages of my books became the thing I turned to. They were my best friend, and with a population of less than two thousand people, Milton wasn't the most exciting place to be. But like everything, I learned to adapt until I got the chance to leave and truly experience the big city.

"Okay! I'm ready to go," I tell Maggie as I step into the reception area. "Shall we?"

She playfully curtsies, offering me her arm. "We shall."

"Are you sure Zane's okay with me invading dinner?" I ask, my heels clicking against the tiled floors in the office lobby as we step onto the elevator. The doors shutting with a dull thud behind us. "He doesn't get many days of you to himself."

"When has Zane ever not been happy to host you?"

I shrug. "I don't know, but I could just go home and relax."

"Relax?" she asks. "When have you ever done that?"

"Ha!" I roll my eyes at her as we step onto the main floor of the skyscraper building. Maggie hugging my arm tighter as we pass the front desk, heading for the front door. "Have a goodnight, Ronnie," I say, waving with my free hand to the night guard.

"You too, Emery," he says, returning the gesture as we step onto the New York sidewalk outside. The chilled winter air kissing my bare legs, only covered by the thin nylon tights and loose ends of my felt coat. My black painted nails digging into Maggie's arm a little tighter.

"You're on a first name basis with the building's security guard?" Maggie gives me a look before shaking her head as a teasing smile creeps onto her lips. "Of course, you are."

"You're acting like it's a bad thing to enjoy my job," I say as we head down the street for the nearby subway station to get to our East Village neighborhood. Our buildings only a few blocks away from each other.

"It's not," she says. "It's just a little unhealthy when it's what you live and breathe."

"I breathe other things."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"Air," I say with a grin as we step onto our subway, squeezing in between other New Yorkers, all trying to get home after a long day of work. Maggie rolls her eyes at me as she grabs hold of the pole stood between us, our chatter dying out with an audience.

"Bubba! We're home," Maggie calls out as she pulls my key to their place from the lock—having forgotten hers in the reception desk at work—before opening the door and inviting me inside as she opens the door wider.

"Hey baby," Zane says, stepping out into the archway separating their small kitchen from the living room. The warm scent of spices filling my nose as I step into their apartment and shut the door behind me as Maggie crosses the room to greet her husband with a kiss. "Hi Em," he says when Maggie pulls away, slipping her coat off.

"Hey," I say with a grin as I set my bag on the armrest of the couch and slip my coat off before stepping out of my heels. "It smells good."

"Doesn't it always?" he asks as he moves back into the kitchen, tossing the tea towel over his shoulder. "Wanna be my sous chef?"

The grin doesn't move off my lips as I slip my blazer off my shoulders and rest it over my coat before following Zane into the small kitchen. He grabs me a waist apron from the drawer next to the fridge as Maggie pulls herself up onto the counter to watch us work.

Zane grabs the wooden spoon from the pan and offers me a taste of the sauteed veggies. "What do you think?" he asks. "Good?"

"Is that even a question?" I ask as I bite the edge of the pepper and pull it into my mouth, savoring the flavor as it coats my mouth. "It's so good, Zane," I say and eye Maggie as she leans forward on the heel of her hands. "As always."

"He's a good one." Maggie grins. "You know, Em, I was thinking that you might want to double date with us. Me and Zane, and you and–"

"Nope!" I hold my hand up as I shake my head. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?" She frowns. "I have a great guy in mind. You remember Zane's friend, Damon? He's newly single and I think you'd be great together."

"I love you, but no," I tell her. "I'm not interested."

"Oh, come on! I'm a good matchmaker."

"Is that so?" I ask. "Okay, give me your list of references and I'll consider it."

"Ask Zane," she says, pointing to her husband. "He'll back me up."

"Yeah, because I'm sure your husband, who's obsessed with you, is going to disagree," I say with the roll of my eyes as Zane snickers next to me. "Mags, I don't need a boyfriend."

"I know you don't need one," she says. "I just thought it'd be nice for you to have someone... good. After Charlie and everything."

I eye her at the mention of my ex-boyfriend's name and see the weak smile creep onto her lips as she slides off the counter. "That's what you're for."

"I just... I don't want him to have ruined love for you."

A laugh falls from my lips. "He fixed love for me," I say and move to grab some plates as Zane turns off the heat. "He showed me exactly what it's not."

Maggie's gaze softens as she wraps her arms around me. "I love you."

My lips curl up as I lean my head against hers and rest my hand over her forearm. "I love you, too," I tell her and smile at Zane as he shoos us towards the table.

I spend a few hours with them, eating and laughing, and talking until eventually we call it a night. The sky is dark by the time I step onto the sidewalk and head toward my building, eagerly making my way inside as one of the building tenants holds the outside door for me.

I stop outside the elevator, hitting the button as I lean into the wall with a sigh. The excitement of being home enough to shake me to my core as I step onto the elevator, patiently waiting for it to reach the fourth floor. I walk a few feet down the hall until my apartment door is in sight, digging through my bags for my keys.

"Oh, come on," I mumble as I lean into my door and lower my bag to dig through each pocket in search of my keys before a loud groan falls from my lips. "This can't be happening," I mutter as I rest my forehead against the painted door, squeezing my eyes shut as I fish my phone out of my coat pocket.

The door across the hall creaks as I send a text to Maggie, asking if she gave me my keys back as another groan falls from my lips at the next annoyance in my life.

"Something wrong, 4A?"

"Nope." I shake my head, not bearing to turn and look at my annoyingly cocky and overly charming neighbor. "Everything's great," I say as I lift my head, catching the hint of a grin on his face as the lights in the hall flicker.

They flicker again before we are left in complete darkness, the lights in Luke's apartment dying out with them. "You sure about that?"

I am so thrilled to be sharing the new and improved version of Bubble Wrap, finally. It's still the story and characters you know and love, just better. Some things have changed, and others have been improved on, but I'm so excited for you all to have these new versions of the chapters. When I first posted this, which is wild to think was in 2017, I never expected it to be at nearly a million reads, let alone evolve into what I have randomly started calling The Bubble.

I'm happy to share that I See You (soon to be In Your Eyes) and No Promises, will also be getting a makeover over the rest of 2022 before sharing the newest addition, Intertwined with you.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy.