Emma
The house had finally settled into its evening rhythm. Teddy and the twins were bickering quietly over a game in the corner, and Zoey was fast asleep in her little bed, having finally surrendered to exhaustion. My parents were in the kitchen, talking softly about tomorrow's plans for school and work, their voices a low murmur against the ticking clock.
Tommy and I slipped out the back door. The garden smelled of fresh grass and warm earth, the light of the streetlamp casting a gentle glow over the path leading to the small park at the edge of town. For a moment, we just stood there, the quiet pressing around us, the relief of finally being alone seeping into my chest.
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering, warm and steady.
I swallowed hard, my own throat tight. "I'm glad you came," I whispered. "It feels… right, being here with you, even if just for a little while."
He reached for my hand, holding it gently. We walked back to the park, past the fountain where children had played earlier in the day, and he led me to a bench tucked beneath a tree.
I nodded, settling next to him, our shoulders brushing. The contact was enough — comforting, familiar — but we didn't need more. We just existed together in the quiet space, listening to the distant hum of the town, the soft rustle of leaves, and the beating of our own hearts.
"I meant it," he said softly, taking my hand in both of his. "I… I love you. And I promise I'll always — always — put you first, even if we're far apart."
The word love hung between us, heavy and full. I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me, gentle but protective, as if he could shield me from all the distance and uncertainty.
"I love you too," I whispered, the words trembling, but true. "I always will."
We stayed like that for a long moment, quiet and still, letting the comfort of being together wash over us. When I finally lifted my head, he brushed my hair back, his fingers lingering on my cheek.
"I don't want to leave yet," he admitted, voice husky, "but I should let you go get some sleep. I'll come see you in the morning. I promise."
I nodded, feeling the weight of the impending separation, but also the tether that bound us across every mile.
We walked back to my house, savouring the small warmth of our closeness, the unspoken reassurance that even in fleeting moments, we could be entirely ours. Then, reluctantly, I slipped my hand from his, the ache in my chest tempered only by the knowledge that morning would bring him back to me.
He pressed a quick, gentle kiss to my forehead, lingering just long enough to make me shiver, and whispered, "Sleep well, Emma. I'll see you soon."
I watched him go, my heart heavy, but full, and when he disappeared around the corner, I let the tears come quietly, feeling the bittersweet ache of love that couldn't yet be wholly ours, but was strong enough to survive distance, time, and every obstacle in its way.
Tommy
I barely noticed the creak of the B&B door as I stepped inside. The small, dimly lit room smelled faintly of lavender and old wood, but I hardly cared. My heart was still outside, in the park, pressed against Emma's shoulder, feeling her warmth, tasting the sweetness of the chocolate on her tongue and the weight of the promise ring on her finger.
I couldn't believe she was mine in even the smallest sense. The only girl I'd ever wanted, the only girl I could imagine wanting, sitting in my arms less than an hour ago, and now — gone for the night.
I leaned back against the headboard, eyes closing, letting the moment replay again and again. The way she'd pressed her forehead to my shoulder, the way her hair smelled faintly of sun and flowers from the park, the way her small hand had fit perfectly in mine. Every detail branded into me, and I couldn't stop thinking that this — her — was worth every pang of waiting, every ounce of patience I would ever need.
"I can wait," I whispered to the empty room, to the darkness. "I can wait for as long as it takes. Because you're worth it, Emma."
I imagined her reading one of my letters, smiling at the words I struggled to put down on paper, imagining her laugh that could light the heaviest days. I imagined the way her eyes always found mine across a room, how they carried trust and mischief all at once. Even though we'd been apart for months, even though her life had changed and she had a new home and a new life, nothing in me wavered.
I never imagined wanting anyone else. Not a single other girl. Not anyone else in the whole world.
Somehow, the waiting didn't scare me. It didn't feel impossible. It felt like a promise. That if I could just hold on, if I could be patient, we would be together when the world allowed it. That even the distance, the rules, the time, couldn't undo what we had.
I grabbed my notebook from the bedside table and started to write, words tumbling over each other. Letters I would leave for her, little pieces of my heart, pieces of the day we had spent together, pieces of everything I wanted her to know. Each sentence carried my longing, my hope, my devotion. I didn't hold back. I dared to let it spill onto the page because she deserved the truth of me.
"My North Star," I murmured, thinking of the silver necklace she wore without fail. "Always guiding me." My voice caught in my throat. "And I'll follow, no matter what."
The night wore on, and I wrote until my hand cramped, my mind a whirl of hope and certainty. I dared to imagine the next day, the first moment I'd see her again, the soft brush of her hand against mine, the glances, the little smiles that said everything without words.
I lay back against the pillows, letting exhaustion creep in at last. The last image I held in my mind before sleep claimed me was her face, the faintest smile, her eyes glimmering with everything we had shared and everything we were yet to share.
And for the first time in months, the waiting felt bearable.