The rain returned sometime after sunset, tapping softly against the shop windows like a familiar lullaby. The sound wrapped the room in a quiet rhythm, almost matching the steady beat of Amelia's heart as she stood close to Ethan.
Their hands were no longer intertwined, but the warmth of the moment still lingered—soft, glowing, unspoken.
Amelia moved toward the counter, blowing out one of the small candles she'd lit earlier. Shadows shifted across the walls, blending with the golden light from the remaining lamps. The shop felt cozy, intimate—almost like a sanctuary.
Ethan followed slowly, keeping a respectful distance but still near enough that she could feel him in the room.
"You're comfortable," he said softly.
Amelia looked up at him.
"I am."
"That makes me happy."
She smiled faintly.
"I can tell."
Ethan leaned lightly against the counter, studying her with gentle eyes.
"You've changed," he murmured. "Just in the past few days."
"Changed?" she asked, tilting her head.
"In a good way," he clarified quickly.
"You're… more open. Braver. Softer, but stronger at the same time."
Amelia hesitated, her fingers brushing a fallen petal on the counter.
"I think… being around you makes it easier."
Ethan's breath caught.
"Amelia—"
"You don't force anything," she continued quietly.
"You just… stay. And you don't leave. And I didn't realize how much I needed someone to stay."
Ethan straightened, emotion tightening in his throat.
"I'm here because I want to be," he said softly.
"Not because you need me to. But because being near you feels right."
Her heart fluttered.
The rain outside intensified slightly, tapping in gentle bursts. Amelia let its sound fill the silence for a moment before speaking again.
"Ethan," she whispered, "can I ask you something personal?"
His voice softened immediately.
"Anything."
"Why me?"
The question wasn't insecure.
It was honest—vulnerable.
Ethan stepped closer, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence settle over her like a soft blanket.
"Because you're real," he said quietly.
"Because you don't pretend to be fine when you're hurting.
Because you care deeply, even when you're afraid to show it."
He took a slow breath.
"And because every time you let down your guard, even just a little… it feels like the most beautiful thing I've ever been trusted with."
Amelia's lips parted softly, her breath trembling.
"You think that much of me?" she whispered.
Ethan nodded.
"More."
She took a shaky step toward him.
Her fingers hovered near his—hesitant, seeking.
Ethan didn't move.
Didn't reach first.
He waited—letting her choose.
Amelia finally let her fingers curl lightly around his hand.
Ethan exhaled softly, overwhelmed.
"I wanted to do that," she whispered.
"Then I'm glad you did."
Their hands rested together—warm, tender, steady.
Amelia took another breath.
"Can I tell you something else?"
"Of course."
"When you said I changed…
It's because I'm starting to feel like I'm allowed to want things again."
Ethan's eyes softened.
"And what do you want, Amelia?"
She didn't back away.
Didn't hide.
She stepped closer until their chests nearly brushed.
"You," she whispered.
Ethan closed his eyes, breath shuddering with emotion he tried so hard to keep gentle.
"Amelia…" he murmured, "you have no idea what that means to me."
She looked up at him, courage flickering in her gaze.
"I'm still scared," she admitted.
"But I'm not scared of you."
Ethan lifted his free hand slowly—slow enough for her to stop him if she wanted—
and rested it lightly on her upper arm.
Warm.
Steady.
Safe.
"I'll go at your pace," he whispered.
"Every step of the way."
Amelia leaned into his touch—small, soft, intentional.
The rain whispered against the windows.
The shop breathed with them.
And for the first time, Amelia didn't feel like she was learning how to trust—
she felt like she was learning how to live again.