Antonio's POV
The city hummed with its usual chaos—horns, chatter, the distant rumble of trains—but I couldn't hear any of it.
Not when she was walking toward me.
Selene looked stunning, even in something simple—hair tied in a loose braid, soft linen dress swaying with the wind. She didn't need makeup or designer clothes. She had that thing… that glow people wrote poetry about.
"Comfortable?" I asked, taking her hand.
"As promised," she smiled, sliding into the passenger seat. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
We drove out of the city. I let the silence hang, the music low, her hand resting gently in mine. After a while, we reached the place—a quiet house by the lake, away from everything. The sky blushed pink above the water.
Selene looked around, confused. "What is this place?"
I unlocked the front door and stepped aside. "Go on in."
Inside, soft lamps were lit, a table set with our favorite dishes—pasta, garlic bread, lemon mousse. A canvas leaned against the far wall, covered in brown parchment.
She walked slowly, her eyes scanning everything. "Antonio…"
I took a deep breath and peeled back the parchment.
The painting showed her silhouette—standing at the edge of a cliff, wrapped in light. But what caught her breath was what I'd written beneath it:
> "For the woman who reminded me what love sounds like in silence."
She turned to me, eyes already glassy.
"I painted it the week we didn't see each other," I said quietly. "When you were working nights. I realized I didn't just miss your voice. I missed your presence. Your heartbeat in a room."
She stepped forward, hands trembling as she touched the canvas. "Antonio…"
"I'm not perfect," I murmured, "but I know one thing—I want to keep building this life with you. Through the quiet, the chaos, everything. I don't need the world. Just you."
She didn't answer.
She walked straight into my arms, tucked her head under my chin, and whispered, "You already have me."