The shop settled into a gentle stillness. The quiet kind. The safe kind.
Amelia worked near the counter again, adjusting petals gently, trimming stems with practiced movements. Each cut sounded soft, almost rhythmic.
Ethan stayed close—not hovering, not distracting—just present.
His presence had become its own kind of calm.
Every now and then, Amelia found herself smiling without realizing it.
Every now and then, Ethan noticed.
"Something funny?" he asked softly.
She shook her head.
"No… I just feel… light."
"Light is good," he murmured.
"You deserve to feel that."
Her cheeks warmed. She cleared her throat and reached for a ribbon, focusing on the task even as her heartbeat fluttered.
"I'm not usually like this," she admitted.
"Like what?"
She hesitated, then whispered:
"Comfortable."
Ethan moved a little closer—slow, intentional, gentle—then rested his palms lightly on the edge of the counter to avoid crowding her.
"I know," he said.
"And I'm honored you feel that way with me."
The sincerity in his voice made something shift inside her—soft, warm, steady.
Amelia tied the ribbon and stepped back to admire the bouquet she'd finished.
Pastel roses, soft cream peonies, and a gentle spiral of greenery.
"It's beautiful," Ethan said.
She glanced at him.
"You say that every time."
"Because it's true every time."
This time, she didn't look away.
She held his gaze, allowing the warmth between them to settle.
After a moment, she exhaled.
"Ethan… do you ever wonder what this is? Between us?"
Ethan's expression softened instantly.
"Every minute," he said quietly.
"And?" she breathed.
He stepped closer—slowly—letting her feel each inch of his approach.
"And it feels like something real," he whispered.
"Something slow and steady… something we're both learning."
Amelia's heart fluttered.
"That's what it feels like to me too."
Ethan's breath shook slightly, though his voice stayed steady.
"I don't want to name it before you're ready," he said.
"But I want you to know—whatever it is, I care about it. And I care about you."
Her fingers trembled.
She set the scissors down, turning to face him more fully.
"Can I tell you something?" she whispered.
"Anything."
Amelia stepped forward—brave, quiet, sure.
She placed her hand gently against his chest, right over his heartbeat.
Ethan inhaled sharply.
"Amelia…" he murmured.
"I don't know how to say it yet," she whispered.
"But I feel something. Something real."
He placed his hand over hers.
Warm.
Strong.
Careful.
"So do I," he breathed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
They just stood there—her hand on his chest, his covering hers—while their hearts beat in a slow, shared rhythm.
"Your heartbeat is fast," she whispered.
"That happens when I'm near you," Ethan replied softly.
Her breath stilled.
"Mine too."
Their fingers slid together naturally, intertwining over his heart.
Ethan leaned forward slightly—slow enough for her to stop him, gentle enough for her to feel safe.
"Amelia," he whispered, "I need you to know something."
She looked up at him, eyes wide, open, trusting.
"What is it?"
Ethan held her hand tighter.
"I'm falling for you."
The words hung in the air like a soft confession, warm and fragile and undeniable.
Amelia's lips parted, breath trembling.
"Ethan…" she whispered, voice shaking, "I think I'm falling too."
His eyes softened with something deep—relief, tenderness, hope.
"You don't have to say anything more," he murmured.
"But I want to," she whispered.
Her fingers tightened around his.
"You make me feel safe in ways I didn't think were possible."
Ethan closed his eyes for a second, overwhelmed by her honesty.
When he opened them again, his voice was low and warm.
"And you make me hope in ways I didn't think were possible."
Amelia stepped into him then—slow, brave, resting her forehead against his chest.
Ethan's arms wrapped around her naturally, instinctively, like he'd been holding space for her all along.
"I'm here," he whispered into her hair.
"I'm right here."
And Amelia held him back—
soft, steady,
letting herself lean into everything she was beginning to feel.
For the first time, it didn't feel scary.
It felt right.