The tension that once hovered like a shadow had now dissipated, leaving behind a rare evening of calm. Eliot gently led Ayra onto the softly lit garden terrace of their newly designed home beside Selene and Antonio's. A quiet summer breeze ruffled the linen tablecloth while strings of golden fairy lights glowed above, casting a soft sparkle over the intimate dinner Eliot had arranged in secret.
Ayra paused, awe gently washing over her. The scene was nothing short of magical — from the vase of fresh lilies to the soft hum of their favorite old jazz melody playing low in the background.
> "Eliot…" she whispered, eyes wide. "What's all this?"
He reached out, brushing a curl from her cheek as he smiled.
> "Something simple. Just for us. A quiet night. A beginning… of everything we've talked about."
Ayra's heart swelled. She had imagined quiet moments like this with him, but never this real, this close, this thoughtful.
They sat together, surrounded by laughter, clinking glasses, and the warmth of flickering candlelight. They reminisced about old memories—tiny apartments with squeaky floors, late nights filled with sketches and coffee, and arguments about bookshelf placements and wallpaper.
---
After Dinner
Standing beneath a moonlit sky, Eliot slipped his hand into hers. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder as the stars blinked down.
> "Do you remember," Eliot said softly, "when we made blueprints on napkins for a life we didn't know we'd actually have?"
Ayra laughed gently, "You said you'd name a recliner after me."
He grinned. "Still might."
Then, his voice dipped lower, more sincere.
> "Ayra… we've come so far. And there's still more to come. I want that future — with you. Marriage. Mornings filled with the smell of fabric dye and burnt toast. And… someday, a little someone with your stubbornness and my messy hair."
Ayra looked up, blinking against the warmth pooling in her eyes.
> "Me too," she whispered, smiling through the emotion. "All of it."
> "If we had a daughter," Eliot said, "I'd want to name her Irish. It sounds delicate. Soft. Like her mother."
Ayra's cheeks pinked. "Irish…" she murmured. "That's beautiful."
> "And if it's a boy," he continued, "Noen. It means eternal. That's how long I want this with you."
Ayra's heart skipped. "Eliot… that's perfect."
They stood there for a while, arms around each other, silently sketching futures with starlight and hope.
Later That Night at Selene & Antonio's Mansion
As Eliot and Ayra rejoined the others, Selene immediately noticed the glowing energy between them.
> "You two look suspiciously peaceful," she teased, setting down her coffee mug.
Antonio raised a brow. "What happened out there? Make a wish under the moon?"
Eliot chuckled, his hand gently brushing Ayra's.
> "Not a wish. A promise."
Ayra, flushed and smiling, tried to hide behind her curls, but Selene wasn't letting it go.
> "Wait. You're telling me we're going to have a mini Ayra or Eliot soon?"
Eliot smirked. "Eventually."
Ayra giggled. "We talked about names..."
> "Tell us!" Mira grinned.
Ayra peeked toward Eliot, then whispered, "Irish... for a girl. Noen, if it's a boy."
Antonio chuckled. "You both are dangerously cute."
Amara winked. "We call dibs on godparent duties."
Laughter filled the room, the night blooming with joy and warmth. For Ayra and Eliot, the quiet little garden dinner had become a loud celebration of love — with promises whispered under stars, now shouted in joy beneath fairy lights.