Amelia barely slept that night.
Ethan's words replayed over and over in her mind:
"Because I'm already falling for you."
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the sincerity in his gaze.
Every time she breathed, she felt the warmth of his presence beside her.
She wasn't used to being wanted gently.
She wasn't used to someone falling without asking her to catch them.
And she wasn't used to her heart answering.
Morning arrived with a soft drizzle.
Willow Bay seemed quieter than usual, wrapped in a thin veil of fog. Amelia walked toward the library with slow steps, unsure of what she would say—or if she needed to say anything at all.
When she reached the courtyard, Ethan was already there.
He stood beneath the trellis they'd built together, adjusting a climbing vine. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and droplets of rain clung to his hair. He turned at the sound of her footsteps.
The smile he gave her wasn't loud or bright.
It was warm.
Soft.
Hopeful.
> "Morning."
Amelia's chest tightened. "Morning."
Silence settled between them—but not an awkward one.
More like a soft blanket that wrapped itself around the edges of the moment.
Ethan wiped his hands on a cloth and stepped toward her, careful, measured.
> "I wasn't sure you'd come today," he admitted quietly.
She looked at the ground. "I wasn't sure either."
He waited—patient as always.
"I needed time," she whispered.
"I know."
"And I'm still… trying to understand how I feel."
His gaze didn't flicker.
> "Take all the time you need."
Amelia swallowed hard. "But I didn't want to stay away."
He exhaled softly, relief washing across his features.
Ethan stepped a little closer—but not too close.
Just near enough for her to feel his steadiness.
> "I meant what I said," he murmured. "But that doesn't mean I expect anything from you today. Or tomorrow. Just… let me be someone who's here."
Her eyes stung.
"You already are."
He blinked—almost startled by her honesty.
Amelia took a small breath and lifted her gaze to meet his.
"There's something I want to show you."
Ethan straightened. "Anything."
She hesitated, then reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the sketch he had given her. It was carefully placed between two pieces of cardboard to protect it from the rain.
Amelia unfolded it slowly.
> "I kept it with me last night," she said softly, her voice trembling just a little. "I looked at it… a lot."
Ethan's breath hitched faintly.
"And I realized something," she continued.
He stepped closer, heart in his eyes.
"What did you realize?"
Amelia held the sketch against her chest.
"That no one has seen me like this in a long time," she whispered. "And it scared me… but it also felt good."
Ethan's expression softened to something almost fragile.
"I'm glad," he said quietly. "You deserve to be seen."
A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.
Ethan lifted his hand instinctively, then paused—giving her the chance to pull away.
She didn't.
So he touched her cheek gently, wiping the tear with the pad of his thumb.
The warmth of his touch sent a trembling breath through her.
> "Amelia," he whispered, "you don't have to say anything you're not ready to. But if you ever wonder how I feel… it's here. And it's not going anywhere."
Her heartbeat fluttered painfully.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting his touch steady her.
When she opened them again, she took a half-step closer—tiny, but real.
"I'm not ready," she breathed, "but I'm not scared of you."
Ethan's throat bobbed as he swallowed.
> "That's enough," he said softly. "That's more than enough."
They stood like that for a moment—her cheek resting lightly against his hand, his breath mingling with hers, the rain whispering around them.
Then Amelia pulled back gently, her eyes soft, vulnerable, open.
"Will you walk with me?" she asked.
Ethan smiled—slow, relieved, beautiful.
> "Always."
And so they walked through the soft rain, close enough for their fingers to brush occasionally.
Not holding hands.
Not rushing.
But walking side by side—
her heart learning,
his heart waiting,
and something delicate blooming quietly between them.