He looks at it briefly.
“You’re singing next week,” he says.
“Yes.”
He nods.
“I’ll be there.”
I smile.
“I know.”
We walk a little further before he speaks again.
“I thought I might lose you,” he says quietly.
I stop.
He stops too, turning toward me.
“You didn’t.”
“I know,” he says. “But I realised how much there was to lose.”
His fingers tighten slightly around mine, like he needs the confirmation of something solid.
“I didn’t expect this,” he continues. “I didn’t expect you. I didn’t expect to care about anyone the way I care about you.”
He hesitates.
“I’m falling in love with you,” he says.
The words settle into the air between us, steady and unembellished.
Something in my soul shifts, not loosening, but aligning. Like something that had been turning quietly has finally found its place.
I step closer.
“I’m falling in love with you too.”
His breath leaves him slowly, relief and wonder tangled together.
He doesn’t say anything else.
He doesn’t need to.
His hand stays in mine as we keep walking through the village, past the pub, past the bakery, past the life that no longer feels borrowed.
This is ours now.
And neither of us is afraid to be seen.
Epilogue
Christina
“You… are… so… going…to… pay… for… this,” I gasp, trying and failing to drag enough air into my lungs.