The morning after the exhibit, sunlight streamed through the windows in golden sheets, bathing the apartment in a kind of warm serenity. The energy from the gallery still pulsed beneath their skin—River's nerves hadn't quite settled, and Lila's pride hadn't waned. The buzz of the night, the compliments, the emotion that had poured from strangers... it had been overwhelming. And yet, the most unforgettable part had been the way River had looked at her the entire time—like she was the lighthouse that had guided him home.
River stood at the stove, shirtless, hair messy from sleep, cooking eggs that would likely be overdone. Lila watched from the bed, one arm draped lazily over her stomach.
"I could get used to this," she said, voice husky from sleep.
"Burnt eggs?" he replied, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk.
"Your back muscles at sunrise."
He chuckled. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm serious. You look like a Calvin Klein ad."
"I look like a guy who didn't sleep enough and is trying not to burn breakfast."
"And succeeding."
He brought the plates over, sliding one in front of her on the nightstand. She pulled her legs under her, hair wild, still wrapped in his oversized t-shirt.
They ate in silence for a while, exchanging smiles, touching feet beneath the sheets.
"Did it feel real to you?" River asked finally.
"What, last night?"
He nodded.
"Yeah. Realer than anything."
He leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. "I've spent so much of my life hiding. Behind the lens. Behind my past. But with you…"
"You let yourself be seen."
He nodded. "And I didn't fall apart."
Lila took his hand and squeezed. "That's because you're stronger than you think."
"I want to take us somewhere," he said suddenly. "Out of the city. Just for a few days."
Lila's brow lifted. "Like a vacation?"
"Like an escape. Just you and me, no distractions."
"Where?"
"I don't know. Mountains? Ocean? Anywhere there's silence."
She smiled. "Then let's go."
They packed a bag each—essentials, camera, notebooks, a bottle of wine they'd been saving. River booked a quiet cabin upstate, nestled at the edge of a forest where the trees stretched tall and unbothered by the noise of the world.
The drive was long, filled with indie rock playlists and long stretches of quiet conversation. Lila leaned against the window, watching the city give way to hills, houses thinning out until it felt like they were driving into a painting.
When they arrived, the cabin was perfect—wooden walls, old fireplace, a view of the lake just beyond the trees. No Wi-Fi. No cell service.
Just them.
Their first night was spent curled up on the couch under a massive blanket, fire crackling, wine uncorked. River read aloud from a book of poetry they found on the shelf, his voice low and steady. Lila rested her head on his lap, eyes half-closed.
By the second day, they had created a rhythm again. Morning hikes through the forest. Afternoons spent in quiet creation—River with his camera, Lila scribbling poetry and sketching the scenery. At night, they cooked simple meals and talked about everything and nothing.
One afternoon, as River stood knee-deep in the lake, photographing the shimmer of light across the water, Lila called out to him.
"Hey."
He turned, shielding his eyes.
"Come here."
He waded back, curious.
When he reached her, she handed him a folded note.
"What's this?"
"Open it."
He did. Inside, it read: You once asked me if I believed in soulmates. I didn't. Not until I met you.
His eyes softened. He looked up at her. "Is this your way of saying I'm stuck with you forever?"
"Pretty much."
He pulled her into his arms, wet shorts dripping onto her thighs. She didn't care. Their kiss was slow and sure, a kind of seal on the promise neither of them had dared to say aloud until now.
Later, they lay on the dock, stars scattering the sky like broken glass. River traced constellations with his finger, connecting them across her stomach.
"You think we'll make it?" he asked.
"Through life?"
He nodded.
She turned to him, brushing hair from his brow. "If we keep choosing each other, every day? Yeah. I think we'll make it all the way."
He kissed her then—not with heat or desperation, but with something even deeper. With conviction. With gratitude.
They made love beneath the stars that night, slow and unhurried, like the world could wait for them. Like the universe was finally holding its breath to let them breathe.
By the time they returned to the city, something in them had shifted. They were no longer the fractured people who had stumbled into each other months ago. They were healing. Together.
But life, as it always does, was ready with new challenges.
River received an offer to photograph a series in Paris—a six-month contract, all expenses paid, major exposure. A dream.
He told Lila that night, pacing the apartment, uncertain.
"You're going, right?" she asked.
He paused. "I don't want to leave you."
"You're not. You're chasing your dream. And I'm cheering you on."
"But we just found this rhythm. What if—"
"River," she interrupted gently, "we're stronger than a few time zones."
He cupped her face. "I love you, Lila."
She kissed him. "Then go show the world what I already see."
They spent the next few weeks preparing—packing, planning calls, promising letters. When the day came, Lila stood with him at the airport, heart heavy but eyes dry.
"You'll come visit," he said.
"Only if you send me a ticket," she teased.
"Done."
Their goodbye kiss was long, lingering, and full of every word they didn't say.
Lila stood at the gate until he disappeared.
She returned to the apartment they'd shared, now a little too quiet. But she didn't fall apart. Instead, she threw herself into her writing, into journaling every memory, every hope. She kept his jacket on the chair. She watered Spike. She slept on his side of the bed.
Every night, she looked at the photo he'd taken of her—the one from the exhibit—and whispered, "I'm still here."
River sent postcards from every city he passed through. They FaceTimed, they argued over time zones, they sent voice notes filled with laughter and longing.
And one day, six months later, he returned. Unannounced. With a suitcase and a ring in his pocket.
Lila opened the door in her pajamas, blinking in disbelief.
"I couldn't wait," he said.
"For what?"
He dropped to one knee.
"For forever."