The morning sunlight filtered through Amelia's curtains in thin, gentle rays. She blinked awake slowly, realizing the warmth she felt wasn't just from the sun—it was from the memory of Ethan's hand wrapped around hers the night before.
She brought her palm to her chest and held it there for a moment.
She could still feel his warmth.
Her face warmed at the thought.
She hadn't felt this kind of closeness with anyone in a very long time.
And for once, it didn't scare her.
---
When Amelia opened the shop, the scent of fresh roses filled the air. She was arranging a vase near the window when the bell chimed softly.
She didn't need to look up.
"Morning," Ethan said gently.
Amelia turned with a soft smile she didn't try to hide.
"Morning."
Ethan held two cups of tea—her favorite blend—and a small paper bag.
"I thought you might have forgotten breakfast again," he said, somewhat sheepishly.
Amelia blinked, touched.
"You didn't have to—"
"I know," he said, stepping closer.
> "I wanted to."
He placed the bag on the counter and watched her with that gentle, earnest look she was beginning to crave.
She took the cup from his hand, her fingers brushing his.
A spark of warmth ran through her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Ethan smiled quietly.
"Always."
---
After she finished arranging the flowers, Amelia found Ethan wandering the shop, fingertips hovering above petals without touching them—always careful, always respectful.
"You look like you're in deep thought," she said softly.
He turned, a quiet smile on his lips.
"I was wondering how you decide which flowers go together."
Amelia walked closer and pointed to the bouquet he was studying.
"Flowers have personalities," she explained.
"Some are bold, some shy, some delicate… some loud. You don't pair them by color alone. You pair them by what they feel like."
Ethan watched her intently.
"And what does this one feel like?"
Amelia hesitated, then spoke.
"Warm. Gentle. Safe."
Ethan's breath caught.
"Kind of like you," she added softly before she could stop herself.
Silence fell—soft, warm, meaningful.
Ethan swallowed, eyes softening.
"Amelia…"
She stepped back slightly, not out of fear, but because the moment felt too raw, too exposed.
But Ethan didn't rush in.
He didn't close the distance.
He stayed where he was, letting her choose the next step.
Amelia took a shaky breath, her heart fluttering.
Then she walked toward him again—slowly, intentionally—and stopped just a little closer than before.
Ethan's eyes softened further, his voice a low whisper.
"Is this okay?"
Amelia nodded.
"Yes."
He smiled gently.
"You're getting braver."
She lowered her eyes, cheeks warming.
"I think… I like who I'm becoming around you."
Ethan didn't hide the emotion that washed over his face.
"You're not becoming someone else," he whispered.
> "You're uncovering someone who was always there."
Amelia's heart trembled.
She reached forward, her fingertips brushing his sleeve—
a small touch, but one she initiated.
Ethan froze, a soft, quiet breath leaving him.
"You keep doing that," she said.
"Doing what?" he murmured.
"Seeing me."
Ethan's voice gentled even more.
"Because I care. Because I want to understand every part you let me see."
She met his eyes—
and for once, she didn't look away.
"I like that," she whispered.
Ethan's smile was slow, warm, and full of something deep and patient.
"I like you," he said softly.
Amelia inhaled sharply, her heart fluttering hard—
but instead of fear, she felt warmth.
Quiet.
Gentle.
Safe.
She didn't say the words back—not yet.
But she didn't need to.
Instead, she slid her hand into his again—
a small, trembling motion that spoke louder than any confession.
Ethan closed his hand around hers—
Not tight.
Not claiming.
Just holding.
And in that moment, surrounded by flowers and soft morning light,
Amelia realized she was no longer stepping toward Ethan.
She was beginning to stand beside him.