The evening grew quieter as the last customer left the shop, the door chiming softly behind them. Amelia flipped the sign to CLOSED, her fingers lingering on the glass as she exhaled slowly.
The world outside was dim—muted sunlight fading, clouds gathering again as if the rain was never far from Willow Bay. But inside the shop, a gentle glow wrapped everything in warmth.
And Ethan was still there.
He stood near the counter, the soft-pink carnation she gave him resting safely in his jacket pocket.
He touched it occasionally without realizing it—
a small, unconscious gesture
that made Amelia's heart flutter every time.
"You look tired," Ethan said gently.
Amelia shook her head.
"Not tired. Just… full."
Ethan's eyes softened.
"Full?"
She nodded slowly.
"Of good things."
Something flickered across his face—quiet relief, fragile joy.
"I'm glad," he murmured.
Amelia walked toward him, stopping a short distance away.
Close enough to feel his warmth.
Not close enough to overwhelm herself.
"I keep thinking about what you said earlier," she whispered.
"Which part?" Ethan asked.
"That… I'm gentle."
Ethan stepped a little closer—carefully, slowly—until their breaths brushed the same air.
"You are," he said softly.
"Even when you think you're guarded, there's a softness in you that doesn't go away."
Amelia looked down, struggling to contain the emotion swelling in her chest.
"I didn't think that part of me still existed."
Ethan's voice was warm, steady.
"It never left. It was just waiting for the right place—and the right person—to feel safe again."
Her breath trembled.
Her fingers curled at her sides, unsure, wanting, afraid of wanting too much.
"Ethan," she whispered, "can I ask you something?"
He nodded immediately.
"Anything."
She lifted her gaze.
"Why do you always look at me like I'm… important?"
Ethan exhaled softly, almost shakily, as if the question pierced deeper than she knew.
"Because you are," he said.
> "You're important to me, Amelia. More than I can put into words."
Her lips parted, a quiet gasp escaping.
"I'm trying to understand what I feel," she admitted.
"It scares me… but it also feels right."
Ethan's expression softened in a way that made her chest ache.
"Let it be both," he whispered.
"Let it be new and frightening and beautiful. You don't have to choose."
Amelia stared at him—
not at his eyes,
not at his mouth,
but at the warmth in the space between them.
Something in her shifted.
A soft, brave courage rose inside her.
She took a step forward.
Then another.
Until she stood close enough for her shoulder to brush his chest.
Close enough to hear his breath hitch quietly.
Close enough that she could choose to retreat—
but didn't.
"Ethan," she said softly, "will you stay for a little while longer?"
His answer came instantly.
"With you? Always."
Amelia reached out slowly, her fingertips trembling as they approached his hand.
She hesitated—
not in fear,
but in reverence for the moment.
Ethan turned his palm upward, inviting but never pulling.
She placed her hand in his.
Warm.
Steady.
Safe.
Ethan interlaced their fingers gently, his voice barely above a breath.
"I love being near you," he murmured.
A flutter rushed through her chest—soft, startled, warm.
"I… I like being near you too."
Ethan smiled—slow, tender, deeply moved.
They stood in the middle of the shop—
lights glowing softly,
flowers surrounding them,
rain whispering faintly against the windows—
holding hands in a quiet moment that felt more intimate
than anything either of them had ever known.
Amelia rested her forehead lightly against his shoulder.
A tiny gesture.
A brave one.
Ethan closed his eyes, touched beyond words.
"I feel safe here," she whispered.
Ethan's voice trembled in her hair.
"I'll make sure you always do."