First Light
The first time Maeve heard the word forever, it was said like a dare—softly, as if the room might flinch at it.
The kettle was rattling itself into a boil. Outside, evening pressed its cold palm against the glass. Inside, everything that mattered was waiting in the pause between one breath and the next.
Jamie stood in the doorway with rain on his shoulders and a look on his face that said he’d already made a decision and was still brave enough to ask her anyway.
Not the neat kind of forever. The real kind. The kind that shows up after the arguments, after the apologies, after the world tries to take your good things for itself.
She didn’t answer him with a promise. She answered him with presence.