The room had settled into a quiet that felt almost sacred, the kind of stillness that only existed between two people who were learning each other carefully, gently. Amelia rested against Ethan with her cheek close to his heartbeat, listening to its steady rhythm.
Ethan's hand rested lightly against her back, his thumb tracing slow, calming patterns. There was no urgency in the way he touched her. No pressure. Just warmth.
"Amelia," he murmured after a few quiet moments, "how's your heart feeling right now?"
She took a slow breath, letting her fingers curl softly into the fabric of his shirt.
"Full," she whispered.
"Full and… safe."
Ethan's breath softened at her words.
"That's exactly what I want for you."
She shifted a little, not to move away, but to see his face.
Ethan adjusted with her, making sure she stayed supported.
"You always say what I didn't know I needed to hear," she said softly.
"Maybe that's because I'm listening," he replied gently.
Her gaze lingered on him—warm, unsure, but open.
"You make listening seem easy," she whispered.
"It is," Ethan murmured.
"When it's you."
Amelia looked down at their hands. Hers had drifted close to his again, her fingertips brushing the back of his knuckles.
"Can I ask you something… kind of vulnerable?" she said quietly.
Ethan's eyes softened immediately.
"Yes. Anything."
She hesitated, her voice barely above a breath.
"Do I matter to you… more than you expected?"
Ethan didn't flinch.
Didn't hesitate.
He nodded slowly.
"Yes. More than I planned for. More than I realized at first."
Her heart skipped.
"That doesn't overwhelm you?" she whispered.
"It grounds me," he said.
"You ground me."
She swallowed, emotion tightening softly at her throat.
"You're steady," she murmured.
"Steadier than anyone I've known."
Ethan brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his fingers moving with quiet tenderness.
"And you're brave," he said softly.
"Braver than you think."
Amelia looked down, her breath unsteady.
"I don't feel brave."
"You are," he whispered.
"You let yourself be vulnerable with me. You let yourself be held. You let yourself feel. That's courage."
Her eyes glistened at that—something warm unfurling inside her chest.
She took a slow breath, her fingertips grazing his jaw in a careful, almost shy movement. Ethan went still beneath her touch—not rigid, just attentive.
"Ethan…" she whispered, "I'm starting to care about you more than I meant to."
Ethan's breath caught—quiet but unmistakable.
"And I care about you," he said softly, his voice warm and steady.
"Not by accident. Not lightly. Not temporarily."
Her chest tightened with something tender.
She leaned her forehead against his, her hand resting over his heart again.
"I don't know how to do this perfectly," she murmured.
"You don't need to be perfect," Ethan whispered.
"You just need to be real with me."
"I'm trying," she breathed.
"You're doing beautifully."
A softness settled over them, deeper than before.
Amelia shifted closer, letting her body relax into his completely. Ethan's arms wrapped around her slowly, securely, like he was learning the exact way she wanted to be held.
Her voice came out small but clear.
"Can I stay like this a little longer?"
Ethan's chin brushed the top of her hair.
"You can stay like this as long as you want," he murmured.
"I'm not rushing a thing."
Her breath softened into his shoulder.
"Thank you for being gentle with me," she whispered.
"Thank you," he said quietly, "for letting me."
She closed her eyes, letting the moment settle deeply in her heart.
And as she rested against Ethan, Amelia realized:
She wasn't afraid of falling anymore.
Not because she wasn't scared…
but because she trusted who she was falling toward.
And Ethan held her like someone preparing to catch her every time.