The rain hadn't let up, only softened — a steady whisper against the windows that seemed to hush the world outside. Inside Hannah's apartment, the lights were low, the air warm and calm. A candle flickered on the coffee table, its scent of vanilla and cedar filling the room.
Emma sat cross-legged on the couch, watching the droplets slide down the glass. "It feels like the whole town disappeared," she said softly.
"Just us and the rain," Hannah replied, bringing two steaming mugs of tea from the kitchen. She handed one to Emma and sat beside her, their knees brushing.
For a while, they simply listened — the steady rhythm of rain, the soft hum of an old record spinning quietly in the background. The quiet wasn't awkward; it was full, alive, comfortable.
Emma turned toward her. "You know… I don't think I've ever really slowed down like this before. It's nice. Being still."
Hannah's lips curved in a faint smile. "You make it easy to be still."
Their eyes met and held — that same magnetic pull that had been growing between them, wordless but unmistakable. Neither moved at first. The world outside blurred, the candle flickered, and then Emma's hand brushed lightly against Hannah's.
It was a small touch, but it carried more meaning than words could hold.
Hannah's breath caught, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, their foreheads nearly touching. "I don't know where this is going," she whispered, her voice low.
Emma smiled, her thumb tracing lightly along Hannah's hand. "We don't have to know. Just… stay here with me."
The candlelight wavered as they sat there — close enough to feel each other's warmth, hearts steady, quiet, in sync with the rain.
The night lingered like that — slow, calm, and full of quiet certainty. Outside, the rain went on, but inside, something deeper had settled between them — not rushed or uncertain, but sure, steady, and real.