The evening settled deeper around the shop, shadows stretching softly across the wooden floor. The warm glow of the hanging lamps made the petals look richer, the colors more tender—almost as if the flowers were holding their breath for something unspoken.
Amelia stood beside Ethan, still holding his hand.
Their fingers stayed intertwined long after the moment should have ended, yet neither of them stepped away.
Ethan's thumb brushed her knuckles in a slow, thoughtful rhythm.
"You're quiet," he whispered.
"I'm thinking," Amelia replied softly.
"About?"
Her cheeks warmed.
"You."
Ethan's breath caught—subtle but unmistakable.
"Is that… a good thing?" he asked gently.
Amelia nodded, her voice trembling a little.
"Yes. A good thing."
He relaxed, shoulders softening with relief.
"You don't know how much that means to me."
Amelia tightened her hold on his hand just slightly—
a small, brave answer.
"I didn't think I'd ever feel this way about someone again," she admitted.
Ethan turned to face her fully, his expression gentle and earnest.
"You don't have to rush what you feel," he murmured.
"I'm already grateful you let me close."
Amelia swallowed, emotion swelling behind her ribs.
"I'm not rushing," she whispered.
"I'm just… learning what it feels like to want someone near."
Ethan looked at her with such quiet tenderness that it made her heartbeat stumble.
"Can I ask something?" he said.
She nodded.
"What do you feel right now?"
The question wasn't intrusive.
It wasn't demanding.
It was soft—an invitation, nothing more.
Amelia lowered her eyes, choosing her words slowly.
"I feel… warm," she whispered.
"And safe. And a little nervous."
"Nervous?" Ethan echoed gently.
She nodded once.
"Because this means something to me."
Ethan's hand tightened ever so slightly around hers.
"It means something to me too," he said quietly.
Silence wrapped around them—warm, unhurried.
Amelia stepped closer, just enough that their shoulders touched.
The soft contact sent a quiet rush through her, but she didn't flinch.
Didn't pull away.
Ethan noticed the small shift in her breathing, the way she leaned into him just a little.
"Amelia," he whispered, "you're doing so well."
Her throat tightened at the softness in his voice.
"You make it easy," she said.
A soft smile curved Ethan's lips.
"I'm glad."
Amelia looked up at him, eyes full of something new—
tenderness, trust, a careful blooming.
"Ethan… would it be alright if we… stayed like this a little longer?"
He exhaled—a quiet breath of emotion, relief, and affection all at once.
"Yes," he murmured.
"As long as you want."
So they stood there, shoulder to shoulder, surrounded by the soft fragrance of flowers and the quiet hum of evening.
Amelia rested her head lightly—hesitantly—against Ethan's upper arm.
Ethan froze in awe.
Then breathed out softly.
And let the moment wrap around them like a soft blanket.
After a long while, Amelia whispered:
"This feels right."
Ethan's voice trembled with something deep.
"It does," he said.
"It really does."