The rest of the morning moved in a gentle blur. Amelia arranged fresh roses in the shop window, answered a few early customers, and tidied the counters—but her mind kept drifting back to the bakery.
To his hand in hers.
To the way the world had gone wonderfully, terrifyingly still.
She touched her fingers lightly, as if they still held the warmth of his.
A small, helpless smile curved on her lips.
She didn't fight it this time.
---
It was late afternoon when the library door chimed and Ethan walked in. His hair was a little windswept, his shirt smudged with faint paint marks, and he looked like he had been working nonstop.
But when he saw her—
His entire expression softened.
> "There you are."
Amelia felt the familiar flutter beneath her ribs.
"I was organizing the new flower shipment," she said. "You look tired."
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck.
> "It's been a long day. But I wanted to see you before going home."
Her heart stuttered.
He walked toward her slowly—never rushing, never pushing—until he stood just a breath away. Amelia looked up at him, feeling that same warmth from earlier spread through her.
> "Are you doing okay?" he asked softly.
She nodded, though her voice wavered. "I… I've been thinking."
"About?"
She exhaled. "Us."
Ethan's eyes softened immediately, but he didn't say a word. He waited—letting her lead.
"I don't know what I'm ready for," she continued, words trembling. "And I still get scared… a lot."
"I know," he murmured.
"But…" She swallowed. "I don't want my fear to make all the decisions."
Ethan's expression shifted—gentle hope flickering across his features.
She took a slow breath and stepped a little closer, surprising even herself.
Close enough to feel the warmth of his body.
Close enough that her next words trembled against the small space between them.
"I want to try," she whispered. "Whatever this is… I want to try."
A quiet, emotional exhale left Ethan—like a weight he'd been carrying finally loosened.
> "Amelia," he said softly, almost reverently.
She looked up at him, nervous but steady. "But I need you to be patient with me."
Ethan reached out—slowly, gently—and cupped her elbow with his fingertips, giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn't.
> "I'll be patient," he whispered. "As long as it takes."
Their eyes held, warm and trembling.
Amelia felt her heartbeat stumble again, but this time… she didn't look away.
Inside her chest, something small unfurled.
Something brave.
She raised her hand—shaking, unsure—and let her fingers brush his forearm. Just a tiny touch.
But enough.
Ethan froze, his breath catching softly.
He looked at her as if she'd handed him something fragile and priceless.
> "Amelia…" he whispered.
She felt her cheeks warm.
"It's not much," she said quietly. "But it's what I can give today."
He shook his head gently.
> "It's everything."
A long, soft moment stretched between them—filled with quiet promise and growing warmth.
Then Amelia stepped back, heart racing.
"I should close the shop soon."
Ethan smiled—slow, tender.
"I'll walk you home."
She hesitated… then nodded.
When they stepped outside together, the sky was painted in soft shades of crimson and lavender. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the world washed clean.
They walked through the glowing streets—side by side, close but not touching.
Until Amelia took a small breath…
and let her hand brush his again.
Ethan's fingers curled gently around hers.
This time—
she didn't pull away.
And he didn't let go.