Amelia and Ethan walked slowly beneath the umbrella, the misty rain turning the world around them into soft watercolor shadows. Their fingers remained intertwined, warm and steady. Every step felt like a gentle promise—unhurried, safe, and incredibly tender.
Ethan glanced at her every few seconds—not to check on her, but because he couldn't help himself. Amelia noticed, and every time his gaze drifted toward her, her heart fluttered with a warmth she couldn't contain.
"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she whispered, cheeks warming.
Ethan smiled softly.
"Like what?"
"Like you're memorizing me."
"Maybe I am."
Her breath paused.
"Why?" she asked quietly.
Ethan slowed their pace, turning slightly so he could meet her eyes fully.
"Because every day… you show me something new," he said softly.
"And I don't want to forget any of it."
Amelia lowered her gaze, touched more deeply than she expected.
"I'm not used to being seen like that."
"I know," Ethan murmured.
"And I'm not rushing you. I'm just… appreciating the moments you give me."
The sincerity in his voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
They passed a small park near her building—empty benches glistening with a thin layer of rain, the lampposts casting soft yellow halos across the cobblestone path.
Amelia paused near the entrance, her fingers tightening around his hand.
"Can we sit for a little?" she asked.
Ethan nodded immediately.
"Of course."
They found a bench beneath a maple tree, the umbrella covering them both as the rain pattered softly around them. The bench was cool, the air fresh, and the world quiet except for their breaths and the soft rain-song.
Amelia sat close enough that their shoulders brushed.
Ethan didn't move away.
He didn't shift or hesitate.
He simply let the closeness settle, warm and natural.
"This is nice," Amelia whispered.
"It is," Ethan agreed.
For a moment, they simply listened to the rain.
Amelia leaned forward slightly, watching the tiny droplets fall from the tree leaves.
"I used to hate the rain," she said softly.
Ethan turned to her gently.
"Why?"
"It reminded me of things I didn't want to feel."
She paused.
"But lately… it feels different."
"How so?" he asked.
She looked at him, eyes soft.
"Now it feels… peaceful."
Ethan's voice dropped into a warm murmur.
"Maybe it's because you're not facing it alone anymore."
Her breath hitched—
a small, tender sound she couldn't stop.
"Ethan…"
He hummed softly, waiting.
"Why does being with you feel so… easy?" she whispered.
Ethan reached up slowly—
giving her every chance to step back—
and lightly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Amelia froze.
Not from fear—
from warmth.
"Because we match," he murmured.
"Your quiet fits my calm. Your gentleness fits my patience."
Her heart fluttered so softly she almost gasped.
"And because," Ethan continued in a softer voice, "I care about you. More than I can hide."
Amelia didn't know what to say.
Her throat tightened with emotion, and she gently placed her hand over his—
not pulling it down,
but keeping it there against her cheek.
Ethan stilled completely, breath trembling at the sweetness of her gesture.
"Amelia…" he whispered.
"I like it," she breathed.
"When you touch me like that."
Ethan swallowed hard, overwhelmed in the gentlest way.
"I'll only ever touch you the way you want to be touched," he said quietly.
"With care. Always."
Amelia's eyes shimmered.
She slid her hand from his wrist down to his fingers—
tracing them softly before intertwining their hands again.
Then, shyly but bravely,
she leaned her head against his shoulder.
Ethan let out a soft, emotional breath—
one he couldn't hide if he tried.
They sat like that, under the soft misting rain,
shoulder to shoulder,
hand in hand,
two quiet hearts learning how to find comfort in each other.
And for the first time that night,
Amelia wasn't thinking about her past.
She wasn't thinking about fear.
Or doubt.
She was thinking about Ethan—
warm, steady, patient Ethan—
and how being beside him felt exactly like the calm after a long storm.