Chapter 20: Heart-to-Heart
The soft glow of streetlights spilled into Lucia's apartment through the half-open blinds. It had been an unusually long day—emails, errands, and errands piled into each other—but Jin had insisted she take a break and join him on the rooftop of their building.
"Fresh air, city lights, no chaos," he had texted earlier.
Now she stood on the rooftop, the night cool against her skin, and Jin leaned casually against the railing, looking out over the quiet Brooklyn streets. His presence was calming, grounding. The soft hum of the city mixed with the occasional distant honk of traffic, and the sky above was a deep navy, speckled with tiny stars.
Lucia took a deep breath. "Thanks for asking me up here," she said softly. "I needed a break… more than I realized."
Jin glanced at her, his dark eyes warm. "Anytime. You deserve to breathe, Luce. And… sometimes, it's nice to just talk."
She smiled softly, feeling a flutter in her chest at the gentle concern in his voice. "Talk… about what?"
He shrugged lightly, though his gaze lingered on her. "Whatever you want. Or… whatever you need. Sometimes it's easier to say things under the sky, away from all the noise."
Lucia nodded, taking a step closer. The railing separated them, but the space didn't feel wide enough to keep them apart. "I… guess I've been thinking a lot about… expectations," she admitted softly. "Love, life… what people want versus what actually happens."
Jin's expression softened, and he leaned a little closer. "I get that. I think about it too. Sometimes it feels… like you're supposed to know everything, feel everything, do everything… and it's overwhelming."
She nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Exactly. And sometimes… I worry I'll mess it up. With love, with feelings… I don't want to hurt anyone, or be hurt."
He stepped closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Luce… it's okay to be afraid. We all are. But part of love… part of connection… is taking those little risks. One grape at a time."
Her cheeks warmed. "One grape at a time… right. You really like that phrase, don't you?"
He smiled softly, eyes tender. "I do… because it's true. Small gestures, small steps, little moments—they add up. And they matter. Just like right now. Talking… listening… being honest with each other."
She met his gaze, feeling the warmth in her chest. "I like that. I like that we can talk like this. About… fears, about… everything. I don't always feel like I can do that."
He reached out gently, taking her hand in his. "I want you to. With me. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced. Just… honesty."
Her heart fluttered at his words, at the gentle sincerity in his touch. She squeezed his hand lightly. "Okay… I'll try. I just… sometimes I don't know if I'm ready for all the feelings. And I don't want to expect too much."
Jin nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "That's fair. And I don't expect everything either. We take it slow. One grape at a time."
Lucia laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the city. "I guess your grapes aren't just about fun challenges and notes anymore… they're… about this too. About us."
He leaned slightly closer, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. "Exactly. They're about noticing, caring, connecting… little by little."
The two of them stood in a comfortable silence for a moment, just holding hands, letting the city stretch out below them. The lights of Brooklyn glimmered, but her focus was entirely on him—on the warmth of his hand, the softness of his gaze, the quiet presence that made her feel safe and seen.
"I… I think I'm scared," she admitted softly, "of loving and being hurt. But… I also feel… something with you. Something good."
Jin's hand squeezed hers gently. "I feel it too, Luce. Something good. Something worth taking small steps for. Something… real."
Her cheeks flushed. "Real…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Yes," he murmured. "And it's okay to be scared. But that doesn't mean we don't try. Doesn't mean we don't care. Doesn't mean… we don't take the next grape."
Lucia smiled softly, feeling her chest warm. "Next grape… yeah. I like that. I like taking the next grape… with you."
He stepped just a little closer, their shoulders brushing now. "I like that too. More than I thought I would. More than I can say without… you noticing."
She looked up at him, eyes meeting his. "I notice," she whispered.
His smile was tender, almost shy, and he brushed his fingers lightly over hers again. "Good. Then we can keep noticing… one grape at a time. One conversation, one laugh, one quiet moment."
They talked for hours that night, sharing fears, hopes, and expectations about love. She told him about her past heartbreak, the times she had felt too vulnerable to try again. He shared his own experiences, moments of uncertainty, and the careful way he had learned to trust someone.
Each admission, each confession, drew them closer. Every soft laugh, every subtle glance, every touch of hands was a step in their slow-burn connection.
"You make this… easy," she admitted softly. "Even when it's scary, even when I'm afraid of feeling too much… being with you makes it feel safe."
He smiled, brushing a thumb over her knuckles. "You make it easy too. Talking… being honest… noticing each other. I think that's what matters most."
The city lights twinkled below them, the air soft and gentle. They stood close, hands intertwined, hearts beating quietly in tandem. It wasn't a grand gesture. It wasn't a dramatic declaration. But in that rooftop moment, with the soft night air, quiet intimacy, and shared vulnerability, something significant bloomed.
Lucia rested her head lightly on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body and the security of his presence. "I think… I could get used to this. One grape at a time… noticing each other, sharing… being honest."
He leaned his head lightly against hers. "Me too, Luce. Me too. And it's only the beginning. Just a start… one grape at a time."
As the night stretched on, they stayed there together, talking quietly, laughing softly, and sharing small touches that were electric in their subtlety. The emotional closeness deepened, and the romantic tension simmered gently under the surface, growing stronger with every shared word, glance, and hand-hold.
By the time they descended from the rooftop, the city felt softer, warmer, and more intimate. Each step, each quiet exchange, each small gesture had brought them closer, one grape at a time. And both of them knew that the foundation they were building—through honesty, care, and playful tenderness—was something worth savoring.
Lucia walked home that night, holding Jin's hand for a little longer than necessary before they parted, her heart full, her chest warm. The slow, deliberate rhythm of their connection—the notes, the challenges, the laughter, and now the emotional intimacy—was turning into something real, gentle, and romantic.
And as she slipped into bed, clutching the small note Jin had left earlier, she whispered softly to herself: "One grape at a time… and maybe… just maybe… this is the start of something beautiful."