The world had gone quiet. The rain had stopped. Candles flickered in the corners of the room, casting golden shadows on the walls. We lay in bed, facing each other, the kind of tired that only came after days filled with living.
"Do you ever think about the future?" you asked, fingers trailing the outline of my palm.
"Only when I'm with you," I replied. "Otherwise, it doesn't feel real."
You smiled, that soft, secret smile you wore when something beautiful bloomed inside you. And then we talked about everything and nothing. About the dreams we had as kids. The fears we never told anyone. The names we might give our children. The places we wanted to grow old in.
And somewhere between the words, you leaned in and kissed me. Slow. Intentional. Like the world needed that moment to make sense of itself.