That morning, the rain fell softly—not heavy, but enough to blur the apartment window and make the world feel slower than usual.
Aurélie sat near the window, wrapped in Elio's gray sweater—the one that somehow felt like hers now. In her left hand, a cup of warm tea. In her right… their contract.
Twelve pages. Twelve clauses. And one date that drew closer with every breath: November 1st — the day everything, at least on paper, would end.
But what about her heart?
What about Elio?
---
When Elio arrived that afternoon, the contract was still on the table, untouched. Aurélie hadn't moved it all day.
"Is the tea still warm?" Elio asked, shrugging off his coat.
"Only if you are," she said softly.
He smiled and took the seat across from her. Their eyes met, and just like that, the air between them shifted.
Not awkward. Just full of something unspoken.
"This," Aurélie said, pushing the contract toward him, "I reread it."
Elio looked at the papers with unreadable eyes.
"And?" he asked.
"I don't know what we're doing… Are we just going to let this end?"
He didn't answer immediately. He turned the cup slowly in his hands, then finally said, "I don't know what to do either."
---
Silence filled the space. Not a silence of discomfort, but of suspended choices.
"I love you, Elio," Aurélie said quietly.
He looked up. His eyes flashed with something—surprise, happiness, fear.
"I love you too," he said. "But… we both know this started with a lie."
"That was how it began. But now? This feels more real than anything."
Elio stood up and walked to the window, his back to her. His voice came out softer than usual.
"I'm scared," he said. "If we turn this into something real and it falls apart… I'm scared of losing you completely. Not just the contract. But you—as my friend, my home."
Aurélie got up and walked behind him, gently placing her hand on his back. "And if we never try? We'll spend the rest of our lives wondering what could've been."
---
That evening, they agreed to seal the contract in an envelope—not tear it, not renew it. Just… let it sleep.
Not because they wanted to forget, but because they wanted to build something without a script.
Without rules.
Without a deadline.
---
The days that followed felt like a fresh beginning. But with that freshness came small, awkward moments.
Who asks the other out now?
Does Elio still have to show up at Aurélie's gallery?
Can "I miss you" still be said without it feeling like an obligation?
"I want to hug you," Elio said one night on the balcony, "but I'm scared you'll think I'm just taking advantage of what we used to have."
Aurélie breathed in and hugged him first. "Don't think too much. Just feel."
That night, for the first time since their contract began, they slept in each other's arms—without the fear of morning.
---
But the outside world wasn't as forgiving.
Rumors about the contract ending started to spread. Some media outlets speculated that they were going to "separate amicably."
One headline read:
> "Aurélie and Elio: The End of a Perfect Lie?"
"What should we do?" Aurélie asked one evening, scrolling through articles on her phone.
"Tell the truth?" Elio offered, uncertain.
"We have to be careful," she said. "People love mocking love that changes direction—especially love that began as a transaction."
Elio sighed. "Are you scared?"
"I'm scared of losing you."
---
In the middle of the media storm, Elio received a life-changing offer from New York — to be the face of an international art exhibition and a spokesperson for young European artists.
It was the dream he'd mentioned in the early days of their contract.
Aurélie knew it mattered. But this time, she couldn't just smile and wave.
"When do you have to leave?" she asked.
"Next month, ideally. But they said I could delay it a bit."
"Are you going?"
Elio paused.
"If I go… will you come with me?"
She met his gaze. Long and hard.
"I have a gallery here. My life is here."
"I know."
"And you've never really lived in one city for love before, have you?"
That question was both a challenge—and a plea.
---
Days passed. The contract officially ended on the agreed date.
No party. No press release.
Just two people standing in a quiet kitchen, under soft light, with love and uncertainty stretched between them.
"Should we start from here?" Elio asked.
"Let's start from here," Aurélie replied.
But that night, while Elio slept on the couch with his New York proposal in hand, Aurélie stood at the doorway, watching him.
Her heart was full. But unsure.
Because love alone isn't enough if you don't know where you're headed.
And soon, they'd have to choose a path — together, or apart in the name of love itself.