The willow leaves rustled softly above them, casting shifting patterns of sunlight over their skin. Amelia stayed close to Ethan, her hand still on his chest, feeling the slow, steady rhythm beneath her fingertips. It comforted her. Steadied her. Drew her in.
Ethan didn't rush her.
He didn't move too much.
He simply remained there—warm, patient, quietly protective.
After a while, Amelia pulled back just enough to see his face. Their closeness didn't break—just shifted.
"Ethan," she said softly.
"Yes?"
"Do you think we're doing this right?"
He smiled gently.
"There isn't a 'right' way. There's only our way."
She breathed out slowly.
"I don't want to get lost in something I can't handle."
"You won't," he murmured.
"I'll keep us grounded."
Her eyes softened.
"You really mean that."
"I don't say anything I don't mean to you," Ethan replied quietly.
A warmth bloomed in her chest.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"What happens next?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Next?" Ethan echoed, his tone thoughtful.
Amelia nodded.
"Yes. After we leave this garden… after today."
Ethan took a slow breath.
"Well… the next step is whatever makes you feel safe."
She looked down at her hands.
"That's not an answer."
"It is," he said softly.
"But if you're asking what I want, I can tell you."
Her heart fluttered.
"I… want to know."
Ethan turned gently, giving her his full attention.
"I want to spend more time with you," he said honestly.
"I want to learn what makes you smile. What makes you quiet. What makes you open up. I want to know your rhythms, your pace."
Amelia swallowed, her breath unsteady.
"I want to be someone who doesn't scare you," he continued.
"Someone who doesn't push you. Someone you choose because it feels right—not because you're expected to."
A soft silence settled between them.
Amelia's voice emerged, small and trembling.
"And what if I want you more than I know how to say?"
Ethan's expression softened in a way she had never seen before.
"Then say it like this," he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly across her cheek.
"Say it slowly. Quietly. In your own time."
Her eyes fluttered at his touch.
"No pressure," Ethan whispered.
"No deadlines. No demands. Just us learning each other."
Amelia felt something deep inside her unravel—soft, gentle, and very real.
"Ethan…" she said quietly.
"Yes?"
"I don't want this to end today."
His breath hitched, warm and emotional.
"It doesn't have to," he said softly.
She looked at him again.
"Then what do we do?" she whispered.
Ethan reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers with slow, deliberate care.
"We take today… and we choose one small step forward," he said.
"What kind of step?"
"Whatever you want," he murmured.
"A walk. Lunch. Time at my place with the door open. Or more time here. Nothing has to be big. Just something that feels honest."
Amelia blinked slowly, processing his words.
She felt something warm and brave rise inside her—unexpected but steady.
"I want…" She hesitated, cheeks heating. "…time with you somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can talk."
Ethan smiled softly.
"I know the perfect place," he said.
Amelia tilted her head.
"Where?"
He hesitated—gentle, cautious.
"My home," he said quietly.
"But only if you're comfortable. Only if it feels right. And the door stays open. You set every boundary."
Her pulse quickened—not with fear, but with the soft, warm rush of trust.
"You'd really let me set everything?" she asked.
"Always," Ethan murmured.
"You're the one I want to feel safe."
Amelia's fingers squeezed his lightly.
"Ethan…" she whispered.
"I think I'm ready for that."
He exhaled, the sound filled with quiet relief and tenderness.
"Then we'll go," he said softly.
"But only when you want to."
She glanced around the garden one last time—the soft leaves, the quiet air, the safety of the moment.
Then she looked back at him.
"I'm ready now," she whispered.
Ethan stood slowly and offered his hand.
Amelia took it, her fingers slipping into his with surprising calm.
As they walked out of the willow's shade together, Ethan's thumb brushed gently across her knuckles.
And Amelia realized something quietly beautiful:
She wasn't just stepping into his space.
She was letting him into hers.
Slowly. Carefully. Fully.
Their next chapter was beginning—step by step, hand in hand.