The walk to the garden was peaceful and unhurried. Amelia's hand fit comfortably in Ethan's, their fingers intertwined in a way that felt natural—like they had been holding hands far longer than a day.
Neither of them spoke much, but the silence wasn't empty.
It was warm.
Full.
A kind of quiet that only happens when two people are learning each other's rhythm.
The garden appeared at the end of a narrow lane lined with maple trees—their leaves rustling softly in the late morning breeze. It wasn't a big place, and most people walked past without realizing it was even there.
But when Ethan pushed the gate open, the world inside felt different.
Private.
Calm.
Almost secret.
Amelia stepped in slowly, her eyes widening as she took in the quiet pathways lined with soft green moss, the wooden benches tucked beneath flowering trees, the faint scent of jasmine drifting from vines that curled along the fence.
"This is beautiful," she whispered.
Ethan watched her with a gentle smile.
"I thought you might like it."
"I love it," she said softly.
They walked deeper into the garden until they reached a small stone bench under a willow tree whose branches draped like soft curtains around them.
Amelia touched the delicate leaves as she sat.
"It feels like we're hidden from the whole world."
"That's why I bring people here," Ethan said, sitting beside her with a respectful space between them.
"When I want calm. When I want to feel grounded."
Amelia looked at him.
"You come here often?"
He shook his head.
"Not anymore."
"Why not?"
Ethan's gaze softened, landing gently on her.
"Because lately, I haven't felt the need to be alone."
Amelia felt her breath catch—soft and warm.
She turned her gaze to the pond in front of them. A slight breeze brushed her cheek, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Ethan watched the movement quietly before speaking.
"Can I ask you something?" he murmured.
"Of course."
"What's the last thing… someone did that made you feel truly cared for?"
Amelia blinked, caught off guard by the question.
Her fingers fluttered nervously against the bench.
"I…" She exhaled softly. "I don't know."
"No one ever made you feel that way?" Ethan asked, voice tender, not demanding.
"I've felt cared about," she said quietly. "But not like this. Not slow. Not gentle. Not… steady."
Ethan nodded, as though the answer wasn't disappointing—it was simply honest.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.
"Amelia," he said softly, "I want to show you what it feels like to be cared for properly. Patiently. Fully. Without conditions."
Her breath trembled.
"That's new for me," she whispered.
"I know," he said gently.
"That's why I'm taking my time."
A silence settled over them—warm, intimate, charged with a soft emotional gravity.
Then Amelia said something she hadn't planned.
"I feel like I can breathe around you."
Ethan blinked, caught off guard in a way she rarely saw.
"That means more than you realize," he said quietly.
"I want to be that kind of presence for you."
She looked at him, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You are."
Ethan inhaled deeply, like the words steadied him as much as they warmed her.
After a moment, Amelia shifted slightly closer—not touching, but enough that their shoulders nearly brushed.
"Ethan?" she asked softly.
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something now?"
"Anything."
"When you said you're falling…" she hesitated, "…how do you know?"
Ethan studied her gently before answering.
"Because I think about you when I wake up," he said quietly.
"And I want to know what makes your days easier… and what makes them heavy."
Amelia's pulse quickened.
"I want to listen when you talk," he continued.
"And I want to sit with you when you're quiet.
I want to touch you… carefully.
And I want to earn every piece of trust you give me."
Amelia swallowed, her breath shaking.
"That's how I know," Ethan finished softly.
She felt that—deeply.
The honesty.
The simplicity.
The tenderness.
Amelia looked down at her hands, her fingers curling slightly.
"Ethan…"
He waited.
"…I think I'm falling too," she whispered.
Ethan's breath hitched softly—barely audible, but full of emotion.
He turned to her slowly, giving her every chance to look away.
She didn't.
Ethan reached out—carefully, gently—and brushed his fingers along her hand.
"Come here," he whispered.
Amelia moved closer, letting him guide her into the soft space between them, her shoulder brushing his chest as she leaned into his warmth.
Ethan wrapped one arm around her back, gentle and secure, holding her like she was something precious.
She relaxed into him, her head resting just below his shoulder.
"I like this," she murmured.
"So do I," Ethan replied quietly.
They sat together under the willow tree, hidden from the world, letting the quiet garden become their own soft space.
Neither rushed.
Neither pulled away.
Neither needed more than the warmth of the moment.
Amelia closed her eyes, feeling Ethan's steady breath beside her, and thought:
This feels like the beginning of something real.