The bistro door opened with a soft chime, letting warm light spill out onto the sidewalk. Amelia stepped in first, and Ethan followed closely, his presence a quiet reassurance at her back.
The room was cozy—small round tables, flickering candles, low music, and the faint aroma of herbs and butter drifting from the kitchen. Perfectly calm. Perfectly gentle.
A hostess approached with a welcoming smile.
"Table for two?"
Amelia nodded, her voice soft.
"Yes, please."
Ethan stayed a half step behind her, letting her take the lead. But she didn't let go of his arm. If anything, her grip tightened ever so slightly.
The hostess led them to a quiet corner table by the window, away from the small cluster of louder guests. Amelia exhaled in relief.
"This is perfect," she whispered.
Ethan smiled.
"I'm glad."
They sat down—Amelia smoothing her skirt nervously, Ethan resting his hands lightly on the table, deliberately calm so she wouldn't feel pressured.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward—just full of unspoken feelings and careful breaths.
Then Ethan leaned slightly forward.
"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.
"Good," she whispered.
"Just… aware."
"Of me?" he asked softly.
She nodded.
Ethan's gaze warmed.
"Then I'll do my best to make that a comforting feeling."
Amelia looked down, flustered but glowing.
A server arrived with menus. Amelia opened hers, but her eyes flicked up toward Ethan again and again as if she couldn't stop checking that he was really here.
Ethan noticed.
He always noticed.
"What?" she asked shyly.
"You keep smiling," he murmured.
"It's… beautiful."
Her cheeks warmed instantly.
"You can't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll make me forget how to read," she whispered.
Ethan laughed quietly—soft, deep, warm.
"Then I'll be careful," he said.
"But not too careful. I like seeing you flustered."
She shook her head, but there was a small smile playing at her lips.
They ordered—Amelia choosing something small and simple, Ethan matching her without making it obvious. After the server left, Amelia fiddled with the edge of the napkin.
"Is this strange?" she asked softly.
"What do you mean?"
"Us… having dinner together. Outside the shop. Like this."
Ethan reached across the table just a little, resting his hand near hers—not touching, but close enough she could choose.
"It feels right to me," he said.
She looked at his hand, then slowly, tentatively placed her fingers over his.
Ethan stilled.
Then he turned his palm up and held her hand in a gentle, warm grasp.
"Better?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," she whispered.
The noise of other tables faded around them.
Amelia traced a small pattern along the back of his hand with her thumb. Ethan's breath visibly shifted, his chest rising a little deeper.
"Ethan," she said quietly, "can I ask something?"
"Anything."
"Do I make you nervous?"
"All the time," he replied softly.
"But in the best, most grounding way."
Her eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Yes. And I like that you make me nervous. It means you matter."
She swallowed, heart fluttering.
"What about me makes you nervous?" she whispered.
Ethan held her gaze, steady but unguarded.
"The way you trust me," he said softly.
"The way you look at me like you're letting yourself hope again."
"And the way I want to protect that hope."
Her breath stilled.
"Ethan…"
He squeezed her hand gently, thumb brushing hers in a slow, reassuring stroke.
"You don't have to say anything," he murmured.
"Just know that being here with you—like this—is something I don't take lightly."
Amelia looked down at their intertwined hands.
"I'm glad you're here," she said.
"I'm glad you asked me," he answered.
The server returned with their plates, giving them a soft smile before leaving. Amelia took a small bite, trying not to watch Ethan too obviously—but failing.
Ethan caught her.
"What?" he asked, amused.
"You're staring," she whispered.
"So are you."
Her cheeks warmed again.
"I can't help it."
"Then don't," he murmured.
"I like when you look at me."
Her heart fluttered wildly.
The rest of the meal passed gently—soft conversations, quiet glances, small smiles exchanged across candlelight.
At one point, Amelia laughed softly at something he said. Ethan paused, stunned for a moment.
"I haven't heard that laugh before," he murmured.
She blinked.
"I didn't know it was different."
"It is," he said softly.
"It's… happy."
Amelia looked down, overwhelmed in the best way.
When they finished eating, Ethan gestured toward her hand again.
"Can I?" he asked.
She nodded.
He intertwined their fingers again, warm and steady.
"You make this feel easy," she whispered.
"That's how it should feel," he replied.
She let out a soft, shy breath.
"Ethan… I'm really glad you stayed tonight."
Ethan's eyes softened.
"I'm glad you let me."
And as they sat there in the quiet glow of the bistro, fingers intertwined, the night folded around them softly—
two people falling deeper into something gentle, real, and impossible to ignore.