The small silver keys rested in Kian's palm as if they weighed more than metal;like they carried every dream, fear, and quiet wish the two of them had whispered over the years. Ariana stepped beside him, her eyes shining as she looked at the apartment door. Their apartment. Their first real home together.
"Ready?" he asked, though his voice shook slightly.
Ariana smiled. "More than ready." đ
When the door swung open, a burst of sunlight flooded the empty living room, revealing bare walls, dusty floors, and open space that echoed every footstep. But to them, it was magical;like stepping into a blank page waiting for their story.
Lucas and Jessica arrived moments later, arms full of paint buckets and brushes. "We come bearing gifts!" Jessica announced dramatically, making Ariana laugh for the first time that day, tension melting from her shoulders. đ
Lucas surveyed the room with an approving nod. "Perfect. A little paint, a little creativity⊠you two will make this place shine." đĄ
And so, the transformation began.
Kian climbed a ladder, painting smooth strokes across the wall, while Ariana carefully taped the edges, her hair tied messily with a stray ribbon Jessica had found. Lucas played music on his phone;old songs, nostalgic ones;turning the apartment into a soft, lively space filled with shared laughter.
Jessica wandered around, imagining where Ariana's bookshelves could go, or how the balcony could become a tiny garden. "You two are going to make beautiful memories here," she said warmly. đ¶
By evening, the room glowed with freshly painted walls. Everyone collapsed onto the floor, surrounded by half-empty pizza boxes and open soda cans. Ariana leaned her head on Kian's shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of paint and home. đ
"It still feels unreal," she whispered.
Kian laced their fingers together. "It will feel real tomorrow. And the day after. And every day we wake up here."
The dim light caught their intertwined hands;two people with a past full of storms, sitting inside a future they built with courage.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't finished.
But it was theirs.
And it was only the beginning. đŹ