The walk from the garden to Ethan's place was quiet in the sweetest way. Amelia stayed close to him, their hands still intertwined. She didn't grip tightly—she didn't need to. Ethan's steady presence beside her was enough to keep her calm, grounded, and strangely excited.
Ethan glanced at her every few moments, not in a checking, worried way—just soft, reassuring glances that said I'm here. You're okay.
"You still comfortable?" he asked gently as they turned down a quieter street.
"Yes," Amelia whispered.
"More than I thought I would be."
A soft smile curved Ethan's lips.
"Good."
The innocence of that single word warmed her chest.
When they reached his building—a clean, understated place with tall windows and a row of small potted plants by the entrance—Amelia felt a flicker of nervousness in her stomach.
Ethan noticed immediately.
"We can go somewhere else," he said quietly.
"Or walk more. Or we can stay outside. I don't want you to feel pressured."
Amelia shook her head softly.
"No. I want this. I want to see your space."
Ethan's eyes softened with something warm and grateful.
"Okay," he whispered.
He unlocked the door and held it open for her.
Amelia stepped inside slowly, her hand still in his.
The interior was warm and simple—soft gray walls, clean lines, a faint smell of cedar and something that reminded her of morning.
He led her gently toward the elevator, never letting go of her hand unless she needed it.
When they reached his apartment, Ethan paused at the door.
"Before we go in…" he said softly.
Amelia looked up at him.
"You set the boundaries," he said.
"You tell me what's okay. What's not. What you want and don't want. And if at any point something feels too much, we stop. Immediately."
Amelia's chest warmed with something deep and soft.
"I trust you," she whispered.
Ethan's eyes softened in a way that made her heart flutter.
"Thank you," he murmured.
He opened the door.
Inside, his apartment was cozy—soft lighting, a plush couch, a few shelves of books, a small plant near the window, gentle colors everywhere. Nothing overwhelming. Nothing intimidating. A peaceful space, just like him.
Amelia stepped in quietly.
"It feels like you," she said.
Ethan blinked, surprised by her observation.
"Is that good?"
She nodded.
"It feels calm."
He smiled—slow and soft.
"I'm glad."
He closed the door gently behind them, leaving it unlocked. Amelia noticed.
He wanted her to feel no sense of being trapped.
And she appreciated it more than she could say.
"Do you want water? Tea?" Ethan asked.
"I don't want you to feel rushed into sitting or doing anything."
"I can sit," she whispered.
He nodded and gestured gently to the couch.
Amelia sat on the soft edge of the cushions. Ethan sat beside her—not too close, not too far—just enough that she felt his presence without being overwhelmed.
The air felt warm around them.
"Amelia," he said softly, turning slightly toward her, "I want your company. Nothing more. Whatever happens after that is your choice."
She took a slow breath.
"I know."
"And you're safe here."
"I know," she whispered again.
He waited, giving her time to adjust.
After a few quiet seconds, Amelia shifted slightly closer—not touching, just leaning an inch in his direction.
Ethan noticed. His breath caught, just barely.
"Can I…?" she began softly.
His voice dropped to a gentle whisper.
"Yes. Whatever you're asking—yes."
Amelia reached for his hand.
Not trembling this time.
Not unsure.
Just wanting.
Ethan intertwined their fingers instantly, his grip warm and steady.
She looked at him quietly.
"Your home feels peaceful."
"It feels more peaceful with you in it," he murmured.
Her cheeks warmed.
"You always say things like that."
"Only when they're true."
"Why do you look at me like that?" she whispered.
Ethan paused, then answered honestly:
"Because you're letting me in," he said gently.
"And I know how rare that trust is."
Amelia swallowed.
"Ethan…"
"Yes?"
"I don't want to leave yet."
His thumb brushed slowly across the back of her hand.
"Then don't," he whispered.
"Stay."
She exhaled softly, leaning her shoulder against his arm. It was the smallest touch, but it felt like something huge inside her chest.
Ethan froze for a moment—surprised by the contact—then softened completely, shifting just enough to support her gently without pulling her closer than she wanted.
Amelia relaxed into him, her cheek hovering near his shoulder.
"I like this," she whispered.
"So do I," Ethan said quietly.
She took a slow breath.
"I think…" she murmured, voice trembling gently, "…I want to sit closer."
Ethan's voice dropped to something tender and steady.
"Come closer, Amelia," he whispered.
And she did.
Slowly, softly, she leaned into him—her head resting fully on his shoulder, her body settling into his warmth. Ethan wrapped an arm around her back with the gentlest touch, holding her like something precious.
She felt safe.
She felt warm.
She felt wanted.
And as they sat like that, wrapped quietly in each other inside the soft stillness of his home, Amelia realized—
She wasn't stepping into something unfamiliar.
She was stepping into something she had needed for a very long time.
And Ethan was meeting her there, slow and steady.