The morning after the festival, sunlight slightly spilled through the cafe windows. The world felt different, though nothing had shifted except the words that had finally been spoken aloud.
Elena moved behind the counter with an ease she hadn't felt in months, her sketchbook lying open on the shelf where she could see it between orders. She had drawn until dawn during her free time, unable to stop her pencil from tracing Adrian's smile, the way his hand had cradled hers, the light in his eyes when he heard her say the words he'd longed to hear.
When the doorbell chimed, she looke up and there he was.
Adrian stood in the doorway in a simple gray t-shirt, the sleeves stretched over his shoulders, his hair tousled all the time as he had run his hands through it a dozen times. He grinned when he saw her, a grin so unguarded that Elena felt her chest ache.
"You're early." she said, wiping her hands on her apron.
"I couldn't sleep," he admitted, crossing to the counter. His voice was lower than usual, almost shy. "Though maybe seeing you would help."
Elena's cheeks flushed. She slid him a cup of coffee without asking, and he reached for it as though it was second nature, like he belonged here.
For a while, they sat at the corner table, a quiet intimacy amidst the bustle. He watched her move through her morning routine, his eyes following her the way one might follow a sunrise.
When the cafe quieted after the rush, Adrian leaned forward. "Elena... can I ask you something?"
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her hair. "Of course."
His fingers tapped against his mug. "When you think of the future, what do you see?"
The question caught her surprised. She glanced at her sketchbook, then at him. "I see colors. Canvases so big I'll need a ladder to reach the top. Galleries filled with strangers staring at something I created, trying to find pieces of themselves in it. And-" She hesitated, her voice softening. "I see you."
His throat worked as though he was swallowing something thick. "You really mean that?"
She nodded. "You're in all of it. Even the dreams I don't say out loud."
Adrian leaned back, his jaw tense. "I don't know what my future looks like. Some days, it feels like the military already claimed it, and I'm just... waiting for the next call. But when I let myself dream-" His eyes flicked to hers, steady and raw. "I dream of you. I see us with a little house, maybe by the sea. You painting by the window with our child. Me in the kitchen trying not to burn our breakfast. And maybe a dog that follows us everywhere."
Elena laughed softly, her heart fluttering. "That sounds perfect."
"It does," he said. But then his voice darkened with honesty. "But what if I can't give it to you? What if all I have to offer are pieces of myself that keeps breaking?"
She reached across the table, her fingers brushing his. "Then I'll take the pieces, Adrian. All of them. Because they're yours."
He closed his eyes, his shoulders dropping as though her words loosened something he'd carried for too long.
That afternoon, they left the cafe and wandered down the familiar streets of the town. They passed the market, where vendors called cheerfully, and the children's park, where laughter spilled like sunlight. Each step was a thread weaving their lives closer together.
As the pier, Elena leaned against the railing, the sea breeze raveled her hair. "You know," she said, her tone playful, "if you're serious about this future thing, we'll need to figure out who cooks and who cleans."
Adrian smirked. "I'll cook. You'll clean. Fair trade."
"You'll cook?" Her brows rose. "The same Adrian Vale who once burned fried eggs?"
He groaned, covering his face with his hand. "You're never letting me live that down, are you?"
"Not a chance."
They laughed together, the sound mingling with the cries of gulls overhead.
Then the laughter faded, replaced by a tender silence. Adrian's hand found hers, fingers intertwining. "I want this, Elena. A future with you. Even if I don't know what's coming, even if it scares me half to death... I want to fight for it."
Her eyes softened, and she squeezed his hand. "So do I."
That evening, they sat in her small apartment for the first time with the door closed, no cafe sounds, no public distractions. Just them.
Elena brewed tea, the scent of chamomile filling the room, while Adrian wandered curiously, touching the shelves stacked with paint jars, scanning the half-finished sketches.
"You see me differently in here," she teased, handing him a cup.
"I see you everywhere," he admitted, his voice quiet. "But this... this feels like your world. And I... I want to belong in it."
She set her tea down, her pulse racing. "You already do."
The way he looked at her with steadiness and intent made her chest tighten. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "I don't ever want to let you go."
"You won't," she whispered.
And when he kissed her, it wasn't hurried or desperate like the confession under the stars. This kiss was slower, deeper. A promise stitched into the quiet of her apartment, into the warmth of the lamplight. A kiss that said: here, in this fragile space, we are safe.
Later, with his head resting against the couch and her sketchbook open across her lap, Elena began drawing again.
"What are you doing to draw now?" Adrian asked, watching her pencil move.
"The future," she said softly.
He smiled, his eyes heavy but his heart lighter than it had been in years. "Then draw us in it. Because I want to see it too."
And so she did. Inside a small house by the sea, firgure of Elena and their imaginary child doing painting together while their dog watch them. Meanwhile, Adrian's figure was in the kitchen, looking troubled and trying now to burn the food he was cooking.