Ethan held Amelia with the kind of gentleness that made every part of her soften. His hand rested lightly on her back, the warmth of his breath brushing the top of her hair as she leaned fully into him. The rest of the world felt far away—muted, distant, unimportant.
For the first time in a long time, Amelia wasn't thinking about whether she was doing too much or not enough. She wasn't second-guessing herself. She wasn't afraid of the closeness.
She felt… grounded.
Anchored.
Safe.
Ethan's thumb traced slow, steady circles against her back—small gestures, barely there, but enough to soothe something deep inside her.
After a moment, he whispered,
"You're quiet."
"I'm just… feeling," she murmured.
"What are you feeling?" he asked, voice low and careful.
She hesitated.
Not because she didn't know the answer—
but because she wasn't used to saying it out loud.
Finally, with her cheek still resting over his heartbeat, she whispered:
"Calm. Warm. Like I belong here… in this moment."
Ethan's breath hitched just slightly—soft, emotional.
"You do," he said quietly.
"You belong anywhere you feel held."
She swallowed, her heart fluttering like soft wings.
"It feels strange," she whispered.
"Strange good or strange bad?"
"Strange… beautiful."
Ethan smiled against her hair.
"That's my favorite kind."
Amelia closed her eyes, letting silence wash over them again. His arms tightened just a fraction around her—not pulling, just embracing her a little more fully, like he was giving her quiet permission to stay.
After a long moment, Amelia shifted slightly, lifting her head from his chest. Ethan loosened his hold without letting go entirely, giving her space to look at him.
Their faces were close—closer than earlier—shadows of willow leaves dancing across their skin.
Ethan brushed a soft strand of hair from her cheek.
"Hey."
She smiled gently.
"Hi."
"You look…" He paused, searching for the right word.
"…at ease."
"I am," she said softly.
"With you, I am."
Ethan's jaw relaxed, his eyes warming deeply.
"That means everything to me," he murmured.
Amelia felt her heart open another inch—slow, cautious, but steady.
She studied him for a moment, tracing the soft curve of his expression, the sincerity in his eyes, the quiet affection in the way he held her.
"Ethan," she said softly, "can I ask something else?"
"Anything."
"What are you afraid of?"
His brow softened, and she watched the vulnerability flicker in his gaze before he answered.
"I'm afraid of hurting someone without meaning to," he said quietly.
"I'm afraid of giving too much and overwhelming the person I care about. I'm afraid of being too intense or too open."
Amelia blinked slowly.
"You're not overwhelming me," she whispered.
He let out a slow breath—relieved, grateful.
"You'd tell me if I was, right?" he asked gently.
"I would," she said.
"And you'd listen."
"Every time," he promised.
Amelia let her fingers trace his forearm lightly—a gesture she didn't fully think about, just felt.
"And what about you?" Ethan asked softly.
"What's your biggest fear right now?"
She swallowed, her voice low.
"That I'll trust the wrong person again," she admitted.
"That I'll open up and be left. That I'll let myself fall and then… regret it."
Ethan shook his head softly—not dismissing her feelings, but grounding them.
"Amelia," he said, brushing her cheek lightly with the back of his knuckles, "you're not going to regret me."
Her breath caught.
"You say that with so much certainty," she whispered.
"That's because I know how I feel," he said gently.
"And I know how I treat the people I care about. I'm not leaving. I'm not running. And I'm not going to disappear when things get real."
Her eyes softened.
"I believe you," she murmured.
His hand cupped her jaw gently.
"Thank you."
She leaned subtly into his touch, surprised by how natural it felt.
After a few seconds, Ethan lowered his hand and intertwined their fingers again, lifting her hand between them.
"What else are you feeling?" he asked softly.
Amelia hesitated—and then answered honestly:
"Like I want to be closer," she whispered.
Ethan's breath stilled.
"Closer how?" he asked gently, giving her room.
"Just…" she said slowly, shyly, "…here. With you. Like this."
She shifted slightly, moving closer so their thighs brushed. Ethan responded without hesitation, sliding his arm around her waist again—careful, slow, precise.
He pulled her in just enough for her to feel enveloped but never trapped.
"Like this?" he murmured against her hair.
"Yes," she breathed.
He lowered his cheek to the top of her head.
"Good," he whispered.
"Because I like you close."
Her heart fluttered.
"Ethan," she whispered.
"Hmm?"
"You make me feel safe… in a way I didn't know I needed."
His arms tightened softly around her.
"And you make me feel wanted," he whispered back.
"In a way I didn't know I was missing."
Amelia exhaled, settling against him again.
And together, beneath the willow's soft shade,
they let silence hold them—
warm, quiet, and beautifully close.