After the plates were cleared away, the bistro grew even quieter. A few tables emptied, the lights dimmed a little more, and the soft hum of evening conversations faded into a gentle background murmur.
Amelia sat with her hand still in Ethan's, her fingers curled lightly around his. She wasn't trembling anymore. If anything, she was calmer—calmer than she ever expected to be while sitting across from someone she cared for this much.
Ethan watched her quietly, his thumb brushing slow circles over her knuckles.
"You look relaxed," he murmured.
Amelia nodded slightly.
"I feel… safe."
Her voice was soft, almost shy.
Ethan's expression softened with something deep and tender.
"You can always feel that way with me," he said.
"Always."
Amelia looked down, heat rising in her cheeks.
"Why do you say things like that?" she whispered.
"Because they're true."
She took a slow breath before asking:
"Does this feel real to you?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"This," she whispered, gesturing between them.
"Us. Tonight. All of it."
Ethan's voice lowered, warm and serious.
"It feels more real than anything has in a long time."
Her heart fluttered.
"I'm… not good at things like this," she murmured.
"At dinner?" he asked gently.
"At letting someone in," she said.
"At trusting feelings."
Ethan nodded, understanding in his eyes.
"You don't have to be good at it," he said.
"You just have to be honest."
Amelia swallowed.
"And I am," she whispered.
"With you."
Ethan's breath stilled for a moment, as if her words hit him harder than she realized.
"That means everything to me," he murmured.
Silence fell again—warm, intimate, full.
Then Amelia noticed something.
"You haven't touched your drink much," she said softly.
Ethan smiled faintly.
"I didn't want anything to get in the way of being present. With you."
Her cheeks flushed again.
"You make it hard to breathe sometimes," she whispered.
He leaned forward slightly, eyes gentle.
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good," she admitted.
Ethan's smile grew—soft, grateful, a little overwhelmed.
"I feel it too," he said quietly.
She blinked.
"Feel what?"
"The pull," he murmured.
"Towards you."
Her chest tightened.
"…Oh."
"Does that scare you?" he asked.
Amelia hesitated, then shook her head.
"No.
It just feels new."
"And new doesn't have to mean dangerous," Ethan reminded her gently.
"It can mean beautiful. Unexpected."
Amelia looked down at their joined hands again before whispering:
"I'm glad you're patient with me."
Ethan's voice softened even further.
"I'm not being patient," he said.
"I'm matching you. That's different."
Her breath trembled.
"Is it?"
"Yes," he replied.
"Patience is waiting for something you want.
Matching is moving with someone you care about."
Her eyes softened.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?" he asked.
"For moving with me."
Ethan exhaled slowly, emotion flickering across his face.
"I'd move anywhere with you," he said quietly.
Amelia's breath caught—
soft, small, unsteady from the weight of his sincerity.
The server returned briefly to ask if they needed anything else. Amelia looked to Ethan, unsure.
He smiled at her.
"Do you want to stay a bit longer?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
The server left, and Ethan's gaze returned to her—warm, steady, gentle.
"You're glowing," he said softly.
She blinked, startled.
"What?"
"Your cheeks," he clarified.
"They get pink when you're happy."
Amelia covered her face with her free hand.
"I shouldn't have invited you. You're making me—"
"Feel?" Ethan finished.
She peeked at him from behind her hand.
"Yes."
"Good," he said softly.
"You deserve to feel."
She dropped her hand slowly, breathing more softly now.
"Ethan," she whispered, "what do we do after tonight?"
He leaned forward, eyes completely steady.
"We keep going," he said.
"Slowly. Carefully. Together."
"And you won't disappear?" she asked, voice small.
"Never," he murmured.
She stared at him a moment longer, then whispered:
"Then… I want this. I want you."
Ethan inhaled, stunned for a moment by the honesty in her voice.
Then he spoke, voice low and full.
"Amelia… I want you too."
Her heart fluttered with a tender ache.
They stayed like that—hand in hand, leaning closer, letting the quiet of the bistro wrap around them like a soft cocoon.
For the first time in a long time, Amelia didn't feel like she was stepping into something fragile.
She felt like she was stepping into something true.